


Back on Track (and it's going to be quite the ride)

by DeeNomilk



Series: Tashok the Dragonborn [21]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, College of Winterhold - Freeform, College of Winterhold Questline, Magic, Tash gets reminded she had shit to do, The Eye of Magnus, ancano being a dick as usual, bc I'm writing the story! i chose who dies!!, character death (in game), memory problems, some people will live, spells, y'all know who it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-06 20:29:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20513033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeeNomilk/pseuds/DeeNomilk
Summary: Fuelled by the Summon Inigo spell, Tashok returns to Winterhold in order to craft a spell of her own in the same vein. While there, she gets reminded of something she should have done quite a long time ago (almost three months, in fact!). Soon, she'll be wishing she hadn't remembered.





	1. Good Intentions

**Author's Note:**

> This is month 4 in Skyrim for Tash, been at the College almost as long. Fun fact: I too, forgot to continue the quest for a long time, because like Tash, I am bad at remembering things.

Ancano hadn’t really thought much of the return of the Orc apprentice. He didn’t really care.

Really.

The only reason he had even noticed was because it was his duty as the Arch-Mage’s advisor to know such things, and because for some reason she had brought back her cat, but not her child.

The return of the small feline was a welcomed one, though she did seem to be stealing him away often. Not _that_ surprising, considering it is _her_ cat, but still, odd, considering she’d never done so in the past.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized she didn’t behave exactly as she had before leaving.

She was still as irritating as ever, but seemed to be spending much more time on theory than application. She hadn’t even touched the alchemy table yet, despite being here for three days. Such a strange turn in her behaviour only led him to want to investigate it further.

He found her with Phinis Gestor in the Arcaneum, hunched over multiple books and scrolls, some of them blank or clearly in the making, with shared concentration.

Ancano stops himself from chuckling at the idea that the Orc could in any way, shape or form concentrate. He hadn’t thought her capable of such a feat.

Oddly enough the amount of interest and concentration on Phinis’ face seems genuine. The man usually seems so bored, it’s almost jarring to see him engaged with a project.

“And what might the two of you be doing, mh?” he asks them as he approaches their workspace.

The Orc apprentice glances up at him, before smiling excitedly.

“We’re making a spell!” she beams.

“Not just any spell…” Phinis adds. “A spell to summon a living creature from our own realm. Why I haven’t worked on something like this in… Well, I haven’t before! This is the perfect time to apply my theoretical knowledge.” he turns to the Orc. “You came to the right person!”

“Do you honestly think you have the skills for such an endeavour…” Ancano frowns down at the apprentice.

“Well, no.” she admits. “Not on my own at least. It’s why I’m getting help.”

“And what exactly, are you trying to summon?” Ancano asks.

“Well, we don’t want to start with a living being just yet… Bit risky and all, not to mention unethical. So I’m starting off with a goblet. Then if that’s successful, a potion, a plant, then a bug, then-”

“Right, right, I get it.”

With this he doesn’t spare it much thought, at least not until almost three weeks later. During the day, the Orc had the pet, but at night she seemed content to let him roam the halls of the College. He’d been, as he’d happily gotten in the habit of doing, petting the small grey cat curled on his bed as he read over one of the many books containing arcane matters he’d gotten from the Arcaneum.

That was, until he saw a swirl of black and purple-blue magic from the corner of his eyes. He starts, recognizing the signs of Conjuration magic, but nothing appears to attack him.

In fact, the magic seems to envelop the cat he’d been petting, and it disappears.

His stomach drops, confused about the events unfolding before him, until a triumphant laugh brings his attention to the floor above him.

“It worked!” he hears the Orc apprentice cry out.

“Excellent! This is a successful project!” he recognizes Phinis’ voice.

The dawning realization of what had happen finally settles in Ancano’s mind. He storms up the stairs and sees, as expected, the Orc apprentice holding her cat close to her chest as she scratches his ears, earning a satisfied squint and loud purring from the creature, while Phinis looks positively satisfied.

His arrival startles the two mages, who turn to him quickly.

“Sorry! Did I wake you up?” the Orc has the decency to look sheepish.

“No, I just wanted to see what the fuss was all about.” he straightens his back. “I see you’ve made a spell to… Summon your cat?”

The Orc smiles so widely she almost glows.

“Yes! It’s the project I was working on!” she strides towards him. “I’m becoming a real mage!”

“Please…” he scoffs, an amused, condescending smile painted across his lips. “Why would you even create such a spell? It’s quite useless, and not exactly craftsmanship.”

Her excitement dims slightly at his remarks, but it seems she is still quite proud of herself.

“Well, if he ever gets lost, for one, I can find him again!” she starts. “If he gets stuck up the Arch-Mage’s tower, falls into a lake… Lots of ways this can help him!”

“Besides, it’s not the spell itself that matters,” Phinis jumps into the conversation, looking quite cross at Ancano’s condemnations. “It’s the fact she was able to pull it off at all. It takes skills, and knowledge to be able to craft up such a specific spell.”

“None of these situations would happen if you were a responsible owner.” Ancano notes.

“Well, none of those things have happened.” now it’s the Orc’s turn to be defensive. Which is quite new territory. “But if it does, won’t I be glad to have it?”

Ancano considers this for a moment.

“Mh, I suppose.” he relents.

“I can’t wait to tell Mirabelle about this.” the apprentice says, mostly to herself.

“Mirabelle?” Ancano quirks an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Well, she’s just been really supportive and all… Telling me she believes I can be a great mage and whatnot… Just, I want to show her she was right to put her faith in me.”

“Well, of course she’d tell you that, it’s her _job_.”

The Orc apprentice doesn’t pay him much mind, which in itself is infuriating, as she strolls past him and down the steps.

“Still, she wouldn’t say it if she didn’t mean it… right?” she looks to him at her last word.

“All I know is that if I were her, I wouldn’t have given you much thought.” Ancano says. “You’re not exactly, well, a beacon of talent.”

The Orc looks as if he’d just struck her, as she recoils and frowns, looking down.

“Well… At least I do my best.” she mutters, before looking up at him with fire in her eyes. “No! I worked hard for this! I’m not letting anyone ruin this for me. This is an accomplishment, whether you think so or not!”

With a note of finality she marches down the stairs and out of view, unfortunately taking her cat with her.

—

The next day, Tashok is still muling over the Thalmor’s comments, but quickly banishes them away.

_Mirabelle was impressed. Phinis was impressed. Even Urag told me I’d done a good job… _she rationalizes._ They wouldn’t lie to me just to spare my feelings. They know what they’re talking about._

“There you are.” she recognizes Lucien’s voice. “I hear your spell went off splendidly.”

“It has!” she smiles. “And Pearl doesn’t seem to mind at all.”

“That’s excellent!… Now that we’re back here, did you ever get anything back from Tolfdir about the Eye of Magnus?”

Tashok tilts her head, slightly confused.

“Eh, no? Why would I?” she asks.

“Well, you know, you told him about what we found in the book about two months ago… I suspect he might have more information by now.”

As he speaks, Tashok’s eyes widen while her mouth falls open just as her stomach feels like it does.

“Oh.” she gapes, a horrifying realization hitting her. “Oh no…”

“What?” Lucien steps closer, concerned. “What is it?”

“Mara’s mercy, I forgot!” Tashok gasps before bolting to the Hall of the Elements.

She practically stumbles as she bursts into the Hall, where Tolfdir is, like many of the members it seems, observing the Eye.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid! You had one job!_

“Ah, Tashok.” Tolfdir greets her. “What brings you here?”

“Urag said…” she pauses to catch her breath. “That there was a book — uff — you should read… Might have to do with — oof — the Eye…”

"Did he now? Does it have information about our wonderful discovery?” Tolfdir inquires.

“Yes, maybe? I’m sorry I was supposed to tell you ages ago- I forgot!”

“No need to worry. What book was it?”

“Night of Tears.”

“Is that the one about something buried beneath Saarthal?” Toldfir asks, earning a nod from the Orc. “Something that men and mer fought over? I'll have to make a point of re-reading it. I don't recall the details.”

He sounds almost dismissive as he turns back to the Eye of Magnus.

“I just can't seem to tear myself away.” he admits. “Whatever this is, its beauty is like nothing I've ever seen before. If you allow me to indulge myself for a moment, I thought I might make a few observations…"

Tashok is about to protest this, having no interest in the Eye whatsoever, but can’t seem to bring herself to cut off the mage.

"I'm sure you've already noticed the markings. They're quite unlike anything we've seen before. Ayleid, Dwemer, Daedric... Not even Falmer. None of them are a match. Quite curious indeed. Now, I'm not quite sure that you're quite as attuned as I am, given my extensive years of experience, but can you feel that?” he turns to her.

She gives him a weary nod, opening her mouth to speak of the downright malevolent energy she feels emanating from the relic, but Tolfdir continues to speak. She hears the doors to the Hall of the Elements open but doesn’t turn to look at who has entered.

“This marvellous object. It practically radiates magicka, and yet it's unlike anything I've felt before. Arch-Mage Aren is already hard at work, and hopefully we'll have more information soon. Now, I-”

Whatever Tolfdir was about to say is drowned out by Ancano’s voice.

“I’m afraid I must intrude.” he says, much more respectfully than Tashok is used to hearing him speak. “It is urgent that I speak with your associate immediately.”

“Me?” Tashok asks, looking around and seeing no one else in the Hall.

“This is most inappropriate!” Tolfdir responds, chuffed. “We are involved in serious research here!”

“Yes, I’ve no doubt of its gravity.” Ancano spares a glance towards the Eye but otherwise appears… distracted? Almost worried. “This, however, is a matter that cannot wait.”

“Well, I’m quite sure I’ve never been interrupted like this before… The audacity…!” he sighs and turns to Tashok apologetically. “I suppose we’ll continue this at some later time,” he glowers at Ancano. “When we can avid interruptions.”

Tolfdir’s vitriol takes Tashok by surprise. She’d never even seen him even frown, and now he looked almost angry at the Thalmor, as if he couldn’t wait to be rid of his presence.

Tolfdir is barely turned around that Ancano’s body enters Tashok’s field of vision, uncomfortably close.

“I need you to come with me immediately.” he says quietly but firmly. “Let’s go.”

“I… What?” Tashok sputters as she trails behind him. “I don’t understand. Did I do something wrong? What’s going on?”

“Really…” Ancano rolls his eyes, looking down at her from over his shoulder. “Allow me to clarify the situation…I'd like to know why there's someone claiming to be from the Psijic Order here in the College. More importantly, I'd like to know why he's asking for you specifically.”

He stops walking and turns briskly, so quickly Tashok almost crashes into him.

“So we're going to go have a little chat with him, and find out exactly what it is he wants.” he leans down.

“Why are you so…” Tashok tries to think of a word. Worried? Scared? Bothered? “Concerned about this?”

"I'll be the one asking the questions.” he replies curtly, and this, coupled with their previous exchange rubs Tashok the wrong way.

She plants her feet to the ground and crosses her arms over.

“Really? You decide to act like a child _now_?” Ancano pinches the bridge of his nose.

He does not need this.

He looks at the apprentice and realizes that his harsh approach has done him no favours. How was he supposed to know she’d become in any way relevant?!

“Look.” he sighs, doing his best, and somewhat failing, to sound patient. “All you need to know is that the Psijic Order is a rogue organization, believing themselves to be above the law… They have clashed with the Aldmeri Dominion before, and I have no intention of allowing that to happen here.”

“I thought you’re just supposed to be an advisor here?” the apprentice regards him with suspicion.

"Technically, that is true. But I still report to the Aldmeri Dominion, and I cannot ignore this situation. Don't worry, you can return to your petty squabbles and meaningless _research_ as soon as this matter is resolved.”

“Hmpf, so you really are a spy.”

The taunt almost causes Ancano to burst in anger, but he reels it in as best he can.

He _cannot_ afford to let his emotions best him. Not now. Not here.

He ignores this and continues is march to the Arch-Mage’s quarters, relieved to see the apprentice is following him despite everything.

“Now, you are going to speak to this... Monk…” he instructs the apprentice. “And find out why he is here, and then he will be removed from College grounds.”

Tashok nods and enters the quarters. She walks towards an Altmer who she assumes to be part of the Psijic Order, based on the familiar robes, and before she can even open her mouth to speak, the world around her freezes.

“What-” she turns to the Mage.

“There isn’t much time…” he starts.

He speaks frustratingly vaguely, yet also specifically, of what is happening, what must be done, and how Tashok must be part of the events currently unfolding before her. Well, that were unfolding, until time itself stopped.

She nods numbly as she struggles to take in the information. Augur of Dunlain… Danger…

_Yikes._

This also confirms something uneasy within her: the vision she’d had in Saarthal was real, and someway, somehow, it was up to her to prevent or diminish some sort of danger.

Talk about pressure.

As soon as she finishes her response, both Ancano and the Arch-Mage speak to Quaranir.

“Sorry, you were about to say something?” the Arch-Mage tilts his head.

“Well?” Ancano presses impatiently. “What is the meaning of this?”

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand.” Quaranir says.

"Don't play coy.” Ancano narrows his eyes. Tashok, much like with Tolfdir, realizes she’d never really seen him truly angry. “You asked to see a specific member of the College. Here she is. Now what is it that you want?”

"There's been a misunderstanding. Clearly I should not be here.” Quaranir continues, not very convincingly. “I shall simply take my leave.”

Quaranir then begins to walk away towards the steps.

“What?! What trickery is this?” Ancano goes to block his path angrily. “You're not going anywhere until I find out what you're up to.”

"I'm not 'up to' anything.” Quaranir insists. “I apologize if I have offended you in any way.”

With that, the Psijic Mage presses past a seething Ancano and disappears out of view.

“We shall see about this…" Ancano grits his teeth before turning to the Arch-Mage. “You must demand he stay! This is highly suspicious!”

“He has done nothing wrong.” the Arch-Mage says calmly, perhaps even a bit smugly. “Even if I’m not quite sure what has just happened.”

Tashok does her best to give her most convincing shrug.

“Neither am I!” Ancano turns his attention to her. "But I assure you I will get to the bottom of it.”

“Well, I should get going…” Tashok begins to take her leave quickly.

“Out of the question!” he catches up to her. “You’re involved with this somehow, and I intend to find out exactly what is happening here.”

With Ancano effectively blocking her path down the stairs, Tashok is forced to stop.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

”Whatever it is those Psijics are up to…” Ancano’s eyes dart around as if he were worried someone could be eavesdropping. “They cannot be trusted. For all we know, he's here to scout out the College. I'm sure they want to undermine our efforts.”

“_Our_ efforts?” Tashok says with an amused incredulity.

“Yes! This! This... Orb.” Ancano doesn’t seem to notice this. He must be quite rattled then. “The Eye of Magnus, whatever you want to call it. It's clearly powerful, and no doubt they want it for themselves! I expect to be informed if they make any future attempts to contact you.”

“Yes, I’ll make sure to let you know next time someone calls me then says nothing…”

Tashok almost rolls her eyes and begins to walk once more, forcing Ancano to either move with her, out of her way, or fall backwards.

“I know you’re up to something, I just know it!” he accuses as he moves to the side.

“Yes, yes…” she waves her hand dismissively. “You’ve made that pretty clear months ago.”

Ancano starts, blinking, before following her again.

“N-no!” he hisses, hating the stutter that dared fall from his lips. “This is different.”

“Would you please stop following me? I want to talk to my friends and you tend to ruin the mood.”

She doesn’t give him any time to answer before she starts legitimately running to the Hall of Attainment. While this normally would make Ancano certain that she is hiding something, a voice in his mind does point out that running from place to place is something this specific apprentice does frequently.

She pushes the door open and heads to the second floor of the tower, where as expected, her fellow apprentices, along with Lucien and Inigo, are seated. Inigo has busied himself with a few of the sweet rolls provided on the table.

“Tash!” Brelyna greets her. “I was starting to worry, Ancano was looking for you.”

“He found me.” Tashok sits next to her and pulls a goblet over to pour herself some wine. “A member of the Psijic Order asked for me… Got Ancano’s robes in a twist for sure.”

“A Psijic monk?!” J’Zargo’s ears perk up. “Where is he?”

“He already left.”

“Ah.” his ears droop backwards. “A shame… J’Zargo would have loved to speak to such a mage.”

“I can’t believe there was a Psijic Monk, here in the College!” Brelyna’s eyes widen.

“What did he want?” Onmund asks.

“He was frustratingly vague…” Tashok grumbles. “Or maybe I just didn’t really understand. Something about being on guard?”

She wants to tell her friends more, but worries that the more people she involves in the situation, the more people could get hurt. She _knew_ that Orb was bad news...

“Well, if you need us, don’t hesitate to ask…” Onmund senses her uncertainty. “Whatever it is.”

“I… Yes, thank you.” Tashok smiles at him. “Actually… do any of you know anything about the Augur of Dunlain?”

“The _what_ of _what_?!” J’Zargo’s face scrunches up. “No. No idea… If it’s important, perhaps Tolfdir would know. He seems to know a lot of things.”

“Whatever it is, it sounds ominous.” Brelyna says. “Maybe ask Mirabelle?”

“I agree with J’Zargo.” Onmund says.

“You do? Now that is a surprise…” J’Zargo smirks.

“Oh shush you… I mean, Tolfdir is always ready to answer our questions. Mirabelle is too, but as Master Wizard she’s much more occupied. How she still finds time to give us pointers at all, I’m not sure…”

“That reminds me!” Tashok pipes up. “I finally made the spell!”

“Did it work?” Brelyna leans in excitedly.

Tashok doesn’t reply, at least not with words. She gives her friends a mischievous smile before casting her spell, directing it to the empty space on the bench next to her, where Pearl appears, licking his paw as if he hadn’t just been magically transported from wherever he had been.

“You could do a lot with this kind of spell…” Onmund notes. “Imagine: putting a spell like that on your keys, your property… Maybe even one to find Tolfdir’s book!”

“He asked you to help him find it as well, did he not?” J’Zargo chuckles.

“Pretty sure he’s asked all of us.” Lucien says.

Tashok eats heartily before bidding her friends goodbye and heading towards the Hall of the Elements. This was were she saw Tolfdir last, after all.

Tolfdir, unfortunately, seems to have migrated elsewhere, as the only person inside the Hall at the moment is Ancano.

His eyes are fixated on the Eye of Magnus, an unreadable expression plastered across his features. They only break away from a split second when he hears the large doors slam shut, turning back to the Eye quickly, until his mind registers just who has entered.

“Don’t think I won’t get to the bottom of this strange visit.” he narrows his eyes.

“I honestly don’t think it’s anything to worry about.” Tashok says. “People seek me out all the time. Comes with being a free-lance adventurer.”

“Do the people who seek you out usually depart immediately after laying eyes on you?”

“Guess I am just that scary...”

Tashok’s joke doesn’t land at all, as Ancano simply continues eyeing her with suspicion.

“Any idea where Tolfdir went?” she asks.

“I believe he went up to the Arcaneum.” Ancano frowns. “Why?”

“Oh, nothing too important… Just a quick question. None of us apprentices can figure it out. I should get going.”

She starts to walk towards the door leading up the stairs when Ancano approaches her.

“Well what is it? I’m the Arch-Mage’s advisor, perhaps I can be of assistance.” he says.

“You… Want to assist_ me_?” Tashok blinks at him in disbelief. “You’re actually trying to spend _more_ time speaking to be than strictly necessary… Why?”

Contrary to what Ancano believes he believes, Tashok isn’t unintelligent. A bit scatterbrained, yes, but still bright. She looks to him with suspicion.

“Must I truly say it?” he sighs.

He does not want to have to pretend to care about someone’s feelings. Then again, he must do whatever is needed to achieve his goals.

“Yes? Why do you want to help me now?” she demands an answer.

“Would you believe me if I told you I wished to… make amends?” Ancano forces the words to sound as sincere as he can.

“…But why?”

Ancano groans internally, though his face and posture betray nothing. If he can get the gullible apprentice to speak to him, he can fulfill his duty to the Aldmeri Dominion more easily. Or at all.

“Well, I realized last night that I may have been,” Ancano thinks for a moment, trying to find a word that would be good enough for the apprentice but that wouldn’t condemn him. “Unfair, in my assessment of your skills. You’re recently crafted spell, for instance, simple in its outcome as it may be, is still a well done spell.”

“Right…” Tashok looks to the side, conflicted.

She wants to believe he means this. She looks to him and his usual disdain is nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he is sincere after all…

“Well, I suppose that…” she starts, and Ancano waits. “You’ve been here longer than I have… In all your time here, did you ever hear about the Augur of Dunlain?”

Ancano’s eyes widen for a split second, looking alarmed, before he regains his composure.

"The what?” he breathes. “I may have… No.”

Tashok isn’t sure whether or not the “No.” is directed at her or at himself.

“No, I'm quite sure I have no idea what you're talking about.” he crosses his arms. “I suggest you mind your own business and return to whatever it is you do here. Make a potion, or summon something…”

He rushes past her, hurried to get… somewhere. Anywhere that isn’t in the Orc’s immediate vicinity.

She can’t know about his activities… How could she? She’s barely ever here! And to almost give himself away, almost admit, in only a half-lie, that he_ may_ have heard the name thrown around before. No. Better play ignorant, it wouldn't do him any good to take such risks.

He glances behind as he crosses the courtyard, paranoia making him believe she must have been following him. He doesn’t see her, but this does little to appease his worries.

Perhaps he’ll need to call for some reinforcements. He does know one agent stationed in Skyrim who owes him a favour…


	2. Revealing the Unseen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We continue on through the College's story!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit shorter, but honestly, Dwarven ruins are kinda just long dungeons with not much to talk about, at least here.

“Of course… If anyone can find the Staff of Magnus, it’s the Synod.” Lucien states as they cross the bridge to Winterhold. “How could they resist something so shiny?”

“Do you know anything about it?” Tashok asks.

“Mh, let’s see…”

Lucien begins to inform them about as much knowledge about Magnus as he can, which is in fact, quite a lot. Enough to keep them busy for the next couple of hours, trading questions and theories back and forth.

As the sun begins to set and the air grows colder, the appeal of stopping in Kynesgrove to sleep at the inn begins to have its sway.

“I mean… It is getting a bit cold for sleeping outside.” Tashok notes.

“You mean cold-er?” Lucien adds.

“I do not see why we should not stop. It will do us well to rest.” Inigo says. Who knows what lies within the ruins.”

They enter Braidwood Inn a few hours past sunrise, tired, but still entirely too awake.

“So, why do we need the staff, again?” Brelyna asks between sips of tea.

“So I went and found the Augur of Dunlain. That’s what the Monk told me to do.” Tashok starts.

“I thought he hadn’t told you anything?” Lucien asks.

“He did. In my head… I think? It doesn’t matter. He said that something was afoot, but that the Order couldn’t intervene directly.”

“And this is related to the big floating orb in the middle of the College, yes?” Inigo asks.

“Yes. He said I’d get my answers from the Augur of Dunlain. I do wish people would speak more plainly though. Both he and the Augur were so… Obscure.”

“Did you find get your answers?”

“Guess I did. He told me that I’d need the staff, and I realized that Ancano lied to me.”

“I mean, that hardly surprising, is it?” Lucien chuckles.

“Perhaps but it’s just… I thought he wanted to help. But then turns out he didn’t. I just need to know why he’d lie. He could’ve, I don’t know… Bended the truth? Or just outright told me. It’s not like we’re not allowed to go to the Midden. Or speak to the Augur.”

“That man has always been quite suspicious, if you ask me.” Inigo says.

“And yet he’s always accusing us of being dubious.” Brelyna huffs.

“Mhm…” Tashok pokes at her stew. “I just wish I knew what he was playing at…”

The next day, feeling refreshed and having had a lovely breakfast, the group arrives near the ruins, embedded into the mountainside.

“I still don’t understand why the Synod would come here… Brelyna wonders as they go up the stone steps. “Why would the Staff of Magnus be in a Dwemer ruin?”

“The Dwemer did like acquiring magical artifacts, even if they themselves didn’t believe in magic.” Lucien shrugs. “Let’s be prudent here, these ruins are always full of traps and aggressive mechanisms.”

“So long as it’s not another Dumzbathar, I can handle it.” Tashok sighs.

“And even if it is, Team Lucien will come out on top I’m sure!”

“We have done it before, and we will do it again.” Inigo encourages.

Brelyna quirks her eyebrow at the exchange, but doesn’t comment on it any further. She hasn’t always been around for her friend’s more, adventurous endeavours.

She pushes the large metal doors open and gasps at the sight: a man, slumped over the wall, holding on weakly to his bloody midsection.

“What happened?!” she cries out, prompting the other three to rush into the ruins

"Crystal.... gone….” he coughs, wet blood dripping out of his lips. “Find… Paratus... in Oculory.”

“My goodness!” Tashok rushes forward with her healing magic, but soon realizes that the man is past the possibility of healing.

“He must be part of the Synod, judging by the robes.” Lucien kneels down. “There must be more of them the deeper we go.”

“And whatever did this to him…” Tashok summons her bow. “Let’s be cautious.”

As it turns out, caution can only prepare the group for so much. The dwarven spider workers were easy enough to snipe from a distance, but the Falmer were numerous, and Tashok was utterly unable to cast calm on all of them in time. Especially since while she was able to pass undetected, her friends weren’t quite as lucky.

The amount of hostile creatures surrounding them was becoming a bit overwhelming, and Tashok hopes to herself that the mages here found somewhere safe to hide, or an exit. Judging by the amount of corpses wearing the Synod robes, her hopes are quickly dwindling.

She steps around a dead falmer and tries to pry open another large metal door, but it remains shut.

A surge of panic seizes her — what are they going to do now?! — until she hears a voice from the other side.

"G...Gavros? Is that you? I'd almost given up hope.” she hears a man’s voice. “Let me get the door…"

She hasn’t quite gotten around to answering that the doors swing open.

"What the... Who are you?” the mage looks on edge. “Where's Gavros? What are you doing here? What've you done with Gavros?”

“I… I’m not sure who Gavros is. But everyone else is dead.” she answers.

"It was the Falmer, wasn't it? Curse them!” the man cries out, hands on his head. “They’ve ruined everything! If Gavros is gone, there's no hope. He was supposed to return with the crystal... Without that, all our efforts are wasted.” His eyes snap to her. “And you. If you're here for treasure, or wisdom, or anything, I'm afraid you've wasted your time.”

“I came here looking for you, actually. Well—not you, specifically. I don’t know you. I came for the Synod.”

"And just why would you be doing that?” he narrows his eyes. “Oh, it doesn't matter now. Gavros is never coming back, and he was supposed to have the crystal. Without that, we're lost. It's all been for nothing. So congratulations, whoever you are, you've found the Synod. Just me, alone, surrounded by angry machines and angrier Falmer.”

The man slumps against the wall.

“What’s this about a crystal?” Tashok approaches him.

"It didn't work the first time.” the man sounds dejected. “I tried to tell Gavros, but he wouldn't listen. "No, it won't be too_ cold _he said. Well, I was right, wasn't I? Focused completely wrong by the time we got here! The cold had warped it! Gavros had to cart it all the way back to Cyrodiil. Left the rest of us here to fend off the damnable Falmer.”

“What is the crystal for?” Lucien asks.

"It was a brilliant idea, really. Mostly mine, though Gavros took the credit.” the man continues.

“Secret, though. Official Synod business. Can't talk about it… What are you four doing here looking for the Synod anyways?”

“We were hoping to find the Staff of Magnus. We’re with the College of Winterhold.” Tashok says.

“Mh, you don’t look much like a mage, you.” the man says, eyeing Tashok’s Orcish bow and light armour. “But it doesn’t matter. I’m afraid I can't help you with that. I need the crystal to do anything useful, and I don't have it.”

Tashok spares at glance at her friends, who shrug to her.

“Is this the crystal you were looking for?” she holds out the crystal taken from one of the Falmer. “A focussing crystal?”

"You found... how in the world... That's it. That's it! I don't know who you are, but you may have just saved this little project... In fact, who are you, anyway?”

“I’m Tash. I’m a mage at the College of Winterhold. These are my friends.”

"You are, are you? Savos wouldn't even grant us an audience when we came to you, but now you come here expecting something from me?” he frowns. “I don't much like this, I'll tell you. But you've saved my skin, so maybe I can overlook the past for now. Come on, I'll explain on the way.”

“And your name?” Inigo asks.

“Paratus Decimus.” the man answers.“I was almost beginning to think Gavros had gone and gotten himself killed just to spite me. Well, with the Falmer skulking around I can't very well do this on my own. I guess you'll have to come with me. I'll explain on the way.”

She follows him carefully, her Bound bow summoned once more, though no attack comes. He leads them into what Tashok assumes is the Oculory.

“Here it is. Magnificent, isn't it?” Paratus says with pride. “Took an incredible amount of work to get it running again. Now I'm hoping it'll all be worth it. Place the crystal in the central apparatus, and we can start the process for focusing it.”

Tashok walks to the centre and carefully slips the crystal into the apparatus.

“What now?” she turns to Paratus.

“Now the crystal needs to be focused. It was created so far away, we knew that some adjustments would have to be made. Heating and cooling the crystal will cause it to expand or contract, which will change how the light passes through it.”

“That is quite brilliant.” Lucien notes.

“You'll need to use spells to do that. Being from the College, I assume you know them already.” Paratus smiles at the praise. "There should be a few basic tomes around here somewhere in case your training is even more sub-standard than I've heard.”

“You want _me_ to do it?” Tashok quirks an eyebrow. “Very well.”

It doesn’t take too much fiddling around before the crystal bounces off the disks on the wall, and Paratus lets out a happy shout.

“Years of work, finally going to pay off... ...but what's this?” he sounds much less happy than a few seconds prior. “These results... They're not at all what they should be. This projection should be lit up like the night sky... Something is creating an incredible amount of interference. Something in Winterhold, it looks like. What are you playing at? Is this some attempt to stall my work?!”

“What?” Tashok asks as she jumps off the ledge.

She sees the projection created by the mechanism shows a pretty accurate map of Skyrim with two bright points of Light. Tashok bends down closer to observe it, but is spun around by a rather angry mage.

“So, what is it? What have you done? Did you know what we were attempting? Are you here to make sure your plan worked, that our efforts have been for nothing?” he demands all at once. “Well, explain yourself!”

“N-No!” she raises her hands defensively. “I don’t understand, did something go wrong? What did I do?”

“Go wrong? Go wrong? Everything is wrong! Everything! Whatever you have at that College has completely interfered with out work here.”

“The College… Why, what’s wrong with the map?”

"Just look! This should be lit up brighter than the night sky, and it's not! Clearly you've interfered somehow. Or…"

He looks to her suspiciously.

Tashok frowns. She’s getting quite tired of getting that look.

"You have something at your College, don't you?” he says, tone accusatory. “Something immensely powerful. Beyond anything I'd anticipated. What is it?”

“Well, we found something in Saarthal.” Tashok attempts to make her voice calm, unaggressive. “We called it the Eye of Magnus.”

"The Eye of Magnus? Well, I suppose if that means what I think it does... Well, that's interesting.”

He begins to walk away.

“Wait!” she chases after him. “What do you think it means? If The Eye is dangerous I need to know, I need to warn the College!”

"I can't explain the details. That would be giving away many secrets the Synod have learned over the years. Also, I doubt you'd be able to comprehend the details. Have you ever seen the Orrery in the Imperial City?” he says, continuing when she shakes her head, while Lucien nods. “It was the inspiration for this idea. Instead of projecting the sky, we project all of Tamriel, and then harness the latent energies to overlay the positions of... What's important is that all of this work was designed to reveal to us sources of great magical power. Purely to help safeguard the Empire, of course. And yet, in the end, only two locations have been revealed to us. One is your College. The other... Well, that can only be Labyrinthian.”

“Labyrinthian?” she turns to her friends once more, who don’t seem to recognize the name.

"So, mage from Winterhold, despite your intentions I've beaten your little game.” Paratus says smugly. “Even if all you said here is lies, I know you have something in Winterhold the Synod Council will be very interested in. So fine, trudge off to Labyrinthian in search of your Staff. I shall return to Cyrodiil and deliver my full report to the Council. This is not over, I assure you.”

“You’re saying the Staff is what’s making that light? And it’s in Labyrinthian?”

“Well, yes. Probably. I mean, yes. Certainly it is, but that doesn't matter now, because I know you're hoarding something even more important at your College. The Council will be informed of this. They will find out what you're up to.”

“We’re not _hoarding_ anything!”

“I think we’re done here.” the man leaves.

Lucien glances at the projection.

“At least we have a map.” he says. “Perhaps when this is all done, we could come back and see what’s changed?”

“That’d be nice.” Tashok agrees. “For now, let’s go tell the others about what we found…”


	3. Containment (alternatively: "What's going on/happening?")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, spoilers for the College of Winterhold quest line, I suppose? I mean, this whole series if full of spoilers, but still.

Tashok feels her stomach drop as they approach the College. From a distance it looks as it always has, but the energy is completely wrong, and the snowflakes swirling around it have taken a decidedly unnatural turn.

Her worries only grow as she enters the courtyard, where many of the members are gathered and are at different stages of concern. Some look scared, others curious. Most simply look confused and worried.

“By Azura, what’s happening?!” Brelyna voices their group’s pressing question.

It so happens that this question rings out as J’Zargo and Onmund rush to accost them.

“You’re back!” Onmund cries in relief. “Thank goodness.”

“This is not J’Zargo’s fault!” J’zargo says quickly.

“What’s going on?’ Tashok’s eyes dart around, trying to see the source of the heavy cloud of powerful energy. Then, she recognizes the sensation. “It’s the Eye, isn’t it?”

“The Arch-Mage and Mirabelle are inside the Hall of the Elements, but they told us to steer clear.” Onmund says.

“I’ll see if I can help…” Tashok pushes through the courtyard.

“I hope this isn’t something I did…” Drevis says while chewing on his nails nervously.

As soon as she opens the doors to the Hall of the Elements, Tashok feels the thrumming energy coursing right through her. He heart and breathing continues normally, but feels so incredibly off, as if each molecule in her body is vibrating.

Tashok can barely see out inside the Hall due to a swirling mass of blue-green light. No doubt the source of the energy Tashok senses.

“I don’t know…” Mirabelle, for the first time, sounds uncertain. The tone does not suit her and only increases Tashok’s anxiety. “It’s, well, it’s like a ward. But who’s casting it? Ancano? How? He doesn’t seem to be…”

“I don’t care what it is.” Savos sounds agitated. “I want it down _now_! I want to know what he’s doing in there!”

The two mages turn to see who has walked in, and Savos closes the distance between Tashok and himself.

“I don’t know what he’s doing.” Savos says. “But he won’t get away with it.”

“What happened?” she asks.

“It’s Ancano, he’s in there doing… Something.” he growls. “We don’t know what. We’re trying to get in now. I’ll have his head for this, I assure you.”

Despite everything, the idea of a fellow member of the College dying fills Tashok with dread. Even for Ancano.

“I know where the Staff of Magnus is.” Tashok steers the subject away.

“Excellent!” Savos looks marginally less cross than before. “I’d suggest that we go retrieve it immediately, but right now we have more pressing matters. He’s up to something, and I suspect it’s nothing good…Help take this down, will you? We’re throwing everything we have at it!”

Savos sends sparks of electricity crashing against the barrier, while Mirabelle hits it with frigid ice. Tashok doesn’t have much in lieu of destruction spells, and so uses the one she’s most familiar with; flames.

It takes some time, but the barrier begins to waver and lose shape in some areas, before dispelling completely.

Mirabelle and Tashok approach Ancano carefully, Mirabelle’s arm is extended in a protective manner in front of Tashok, urging her to stay farther away. Ancano seems to be transferring magical energy with the Eye, though whether this is him absorbing it or sending it, it’s hard to tell. His eyes are locked with the Eye, wide and dazed, almost crazed.

“What’s happening?” Tashok asks Ancano, her voice wavering. “What did you do?”

“What’s going on?” Mirabelle shouts.

He doesn’t respond to either of them. In fact, he doesn’t even seem to have heard them. His attention is focussed on the Eye and the Eye only, his eyes twinkling with either hope or desperation. Perhaps both.

_If I can have this power, the Aldmeri Dominion will **need **me. They'll never even dream of getting rid of me. I'll be indispensable_. he tells himself.

The force of the Eye's power actually hurt. But it was worth it. It had to be.

“Ancano!” Savos bellows. “Stop this at once, I command you.”

The Arch-Mage charges his palms with mystic energy, ready to strike as he approaches the rogue Thalmor.

“Don’t go near him!” Mirabelle pleads him.

Once Savos has almost reached Ancano, the latter finally turns, and seems to just realize he’s been surrounded. His eyes flash with anger and fear, and he breaks one hand away directed at the three of them.

Tashok barely has time to register the movement, Savos’ panicked glance at them as he too raises a hand, reaching for herself and Mirabelle before the Eye of Magnus trembles and emanates a bright blue light that envelops her vision. She feels herself be propelled backwards, and the painful crack of her back and head as she hits the wall.

She opens her eyes, her vision blurred as she frantically turns her head from side to side, trying to remember where she is and what transpired. The stone is cold beneath her stomach, and she braces herself on her forearm to try and stand.

She faintly hears someone’s voice.

Mirabelle?

She’s calling her!

Her eyes dart upwards to see Mirabelle slumped against a pillar, speaking to her.

“Tashok, can you hear me?” she winces when she tries to reach for the apprentice. “Are you alright? Can you walk?”

Tashok struggles to reply, but manages to stand up fully, if not a bit wobbly. She nods.

“I need you on your feet. We’re in trouble here.” Mirabelle continues. “Whatever he’s doing with that thing… The Eye… We can’t stop him!”

Tashok hears the sound of her friends shouting in the distance, though she can’t quite see them. She looks about and realizes the Arch Mage is nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s the Arch Mage?” Tashok’s voice trembles.

“I haven’t seen Savos since the explosion.” Mirabelle also glances about before redirecting her attention to the young Orc. Concern floods out of her. “He must’ve been blown clear… He may be injured! Find the Arch-Mage, and I need you to do it quickly. Hurry!”

“What about you?” Tashok prepares a healing spell.

“I’ll be fine, I just need a minute to catch my breath.” Mirabelle extends her hand to refuse the spell. “Find Savos…”

Tashok rushes out of the Hall and pushes through the crowd formed in the courtyard.

“Tash! You’re alright…” Lucien runs to her along with Inigo. “What happened?”

“We heard a very loud sound, like an explosion, and the Arch-Mage blew through the doors.” Inigo says.

“Where is he?” Tashok takes Inigo’s shoulders in a panic.

Inigo points a clawed finger to the statue about four meters from them.

She weaves through the crowd gathering around the statue.

“What happened?” Sergius also approaches along with her, his eyes falling on the Arch-Mage. “He’s not…”

“He can’t be!” Faralda gasps, her voice shaking with anguish.

Tashok slips between Urag and Arniel. Her heart constricts when she sees the battered body of the Arch-Mage, clearly having died from either hitting the door, the edge of the statue, the stone floor, or a combination of the three.

“Kid…” Urag seems to just notice her presence.

“Tashok, are you alright…” Tolfdir stands from his crouched position beside the Arch-Mage. “What happened in there? Where’s Mirabelle?”

“I-is he dead?” Tashok’s voice is barely audible.

The realization that the Arch-Mage has been killed, by another person in the College no less, sends her reeling.

"I can hardly believe it.” Tolfdir looks to the Arch-Mage mournfully, but shakes his head. “But there's no time. Whatever happened here has affected Winterhold as well. I need you to get out there and make sure everything's all right. I'll do what I can here. Go now, go!”

“Winterhold is in danger?” the sorrow is now replaced with alarm.

“Yes, go help them!”

Tashok pivots, looking around the courtyard and sees her friends standing a few meters away from them. She motions to them to follow her and sprints towards Winterhold. On the bridge, Faralda is looking over to Winterhold, her face frozen in a concerned frown.

“What’s happening?” she asks Tashok.

"Something went wrong with the Eye. The Arch-Mage is dead!” Winterhold may be in danger. Can you help? 

"It ‘_may be_’ in danger? Take a look.” Faralda motions to the town, where some people can be heard screaming while the guards are fighting… Something. “I don't think there's much question. Let's get down there. We have to do something. Come on Arniel, let’s go.”

“Hmpf… As if they would lift _a finger_ for us…” Arniel groans, but follows nonetheless.

The group comprised of Tashok, Faralda, Arniel, Inigo, Lucien, J’Zargo, Brelyna and Onmund reach the end of the bridge and see the extent of the fallout. Multiple large, floating orbs fly erratically, attacking anything in sight.

A guard is clearly struggling to fight one, most of his swings missing when an anomaly lunges at him. It doesn’t reach him, however, as a translucent but very physical light-indigo arrow lodges into its side. It writhes before dissolving into some sort of magical remnants.

He spins and sees Tashok knocking another arrow, intensely focussed on an anomaly that begins to make its way to her. She lets go once more, hitting it face on.

“What did you freaks do?” the guard shouts in fearful anger.

“It’s the Thalmor.” Faralda says. “He’s taken over a magical artifact.”

“We’re here to help!” Onmund yells as he lets a lightning bolt loose on another anomaly.

“Get the citizens away from Winterhold.” Lucien says.

“Damn mages…” the guard grumbles, but heeds Lucien’s order.

The strange magic anomalies prove to be quite hard to hit. To add insult to injury they do tremendous damage, though they are easily killed. If only there wasn’t so many.

An anomaly jabs painfully at Tashok’s side, throwing off her balance for a moment. She turns to it and smacks it with her bow, starling the creature before drawing her bow and sinking an arrow into it.

Her heart stops when she sees the family running the Inn — Eirid, Haran and Dagur huddled against the side of a building, the parents trying to keep the anomalies away with nothing but daggers.

An anomaly charges at them, but Orthorn runs between the creature and the family, casting at ward on which the anomaly’s attack bounces off. The ward is destroyed in the process, but he releases a lightning bolt towards the closest anomaly.

“Run!” he says to the family as another anomaly approaches.

Tashok hits the anomaly before it manages to get close to them.

The fight becomes a blur, until all the anomalies are gone.

Faralda tells them she’ll stay behind, and so the seven mages, along with Inigo, return briskly to the College once Winterhold is decidedly out of danger, from the anomalies. Tashok relays the information to Mirabelle. A few of the mages eye Orthorn skeptically, but don't do anything to stop him from following Tashok and the others.

“You need to get your hands on the Staff of Magnus.” Mirabelle says. “Now.”

“Me?” Tashok gapes. “Why? Shouldn’t someone competent go?”

"I've got to stay here, to see if we can get to Ancano and stop this… I need someone I can trust to do it, and I trust you.

“I… I’ll do my best.”

“Besides, you_ are_ the one having all these visions, aren't you?”

A few of the bystanders, Arniel and Orthorn especially, seem taken aback by the mention of visions. He looks to Arniel questioningly, but Arniel shrugs in a way that says “I have as much a clue as you do.”

“You really think the Staff will help?” Tashok glances at the Eye. “I can’t really see how a staff can fix this…”

"You were told to find it, weren't you?” Mirabelle says. “If the stories about the staff are true, if it can really absorb a tremendous amount of power, maybe we can break through Ancano's magic.”

“Right. Then I'm off to Labyrinthian.”

Mirabelle’s eyes widen at the name.

"What? Are you... Are you sure? The staff is there?” she frowns, pensive. “That can't be a coincidence.”

“Coincidence?” Tashok and Lucien ask at the same time.

”The Arch-Mage. He... He gave me something just a little while ago.”

Tashok looks perplexed.

“I don't understand. What _coincidence_?” she asks.

“Savos. Before... before he died. He... He gave me something just a little while ago…” Mirabelle sighs. “He told me it was from Labyrinthian, and that I would know what to do with it when the time came. I think... I think he meant this for you, then. I'm not sure why, but there was something very personal about it for him. Also, I think you should take this amulet. It belonged to Savos, but I think would do you the most good now. Take it, and get out of here.

She slips the amulet into Tashok’s hands, holding them tightly for a moment.

“Bring back that Staff before Ancano brings the whole College down around us.” she says. “And _please_, don’t get killed. If we don’t stop this, I can’t bear to think of what could happen to Skyrim.”

Tashok nods shakily, feeling her eyes well up with tears. The situation seems so dire, and she isn’t convinced they’ll make it out. If the Arch-Mage died, then what chance does she have? What’ll happen to her children? To her _friends_?

She feels arms wrap around her shoulders from the side, but the arms are a bit bigger and the person too tall to be Lucien.

“We _will_ succeed.” she hears Onmund’s voice. He’s the one standing close to her. “We’ll go with her and protect her. The Staff, and Tash, will be back at the College before you know it.”

He seems so certain, and so determined. His conviction is visible on all the apprentices, as well as Lucien and Inigo.

“Let us go.” Inigo says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount of times I had to write some sort of variation of "What's happening?" is out of this world. Did the writers realize this?


	4. Staff of Magnus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The 6 friends dive into the ruins of Labyrinthian together, like 6 friends long before them. Can they handle the maze-like ruin better than their predecessors?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: my current wifi is called Labyrinthian - it's bc I'm not only in a basement apartment, but one that's got a very peculiar layout.

“That’s… That’s the Arch-Mage’s voice!” Brelyna gasps as the strange ghosts — Apparitions? Memories? — speak before them.

“He was here…” Lucien notes, eyes widening.

Tashok narrows her eyes. She doesn’t recognize any of the other mages. They must have moved on elsewhere. As they walk through a small hallway, she eyes the open area behind it suspiciously. What could that chamber possibly be used for?

She glances about, trying to find a way to lift the iron gate.

“J’Zargo believes this may be what you’re looking for.” J’zargo taps a claw onto a lever, eliciting a few small ‘clinks’. “Shall I give it a pull?”

Tashok nods, then slips past the gate when it lifts up.

To her horror, the soil before her begins to shift as multiple skeletons rise from the ground, looking much more armed than the skeletons she usually encounters. Her chest fills with dread as the mound in the centre begins to rise, a set of large skeletal bones shaking off the dirt to reveal what looks like a dragon’s skeleton.

Her mind doesn’t linger on the implications of such a remain as she vigorously summons her bow to her.

“What the-?!” she hears J’Zargo yell out as she hears the fall of the gate.

She turns and sees that only Inigo has crossed into the room with her, while her other friends are now cut off from them, alarmed.

“Look out!” Lucien yells.

Tashok goes to return her attention to the skeletons to see what exactly is coming at her, and to her misfortune, she turns right into the swing of a blade.

It catches her temple and slices down to her jaw in one painful motion.

“Argh!” she cries out and drops her bow, letting it crash to the ground and dispel as she clutches her face.

Tears well up in the eye closest to the injury as she dodges another swipe from the skeleton, her hand still pressed to her side. She calls forth a healing spell, and blinks out the pain to focus on her assailants.

She summons her bow once more and sinks an arrow into the skeleton that had attacked her. Truth be told, the splattering of its skull upon impact and the clattering of the bones as they fell was extremely satisfying to Tashok’s ears.

The metal gate swings open again as J’Zargo and Lucien rush in.

“Hurry!” Brelyna urges them before the gate falls before her, cutting her path.

“Shit!” Onmund curses and makes for the lever.

Luckily for them, Inigo has already taken out many of the skeletons, as well as having put lots of arrows into the undead dragon. Once all of them are inside the chamber, the enemies become no match for them.

As they come down, Lucien spots an etched stone tablet and begins to read. As he ghosts his finger over he words, actual ghosts appear once more.

“We barely made it out alive, and you want to go back in?!” one of them yells.

“It’s too late, there isn’t enough of him to go back after!” another one adds.

“Gods… What have we done…” one of the ghosts cries out.

“We can’t go back… Might as well go forward. We can still do this.” Savos’ ghostly form sighs.

“Savos is right. We can make it if we just stay alert.” one of the first ghosts to have spoken says.

The living group looks to each other with a sad understanding.

“They lost their friend…” Brelyna whispers.

“Do you think one of the skeletons was him?” Tashok asks, hoping the answer is a negative.

“Who knows…” J’Zargo says. “There is no time to waste, let’s continue.”

Tashok hesitates.

“Guys… You know this is dangerous, right?” she doesn’t really ask as much as state.

“Of course we know.” Onmund says, tightening the straps on his armour. “We go into dangerous situations all the time. You even more than the rest of us.”

“Yes but it’s, it’s different this time…” Tashok looks pained. “One of us could get killed. Are you sure you want to risk it? I can continue alone, you don’t need to put yourselves in danger…”

The air grows still and tense.

“Tash…” Lucien is the one to break the silence. “Do you even need to ask? You’re my friend! I’d never let you run into danger alone. _Never_.”

“Even if I had not sworn to fight by your side, I would still do it.” Inigo says. “I could not bear to have you die on your own, or at all, for that matter.”

“We knew the risks when we came with you.” Onmund adds. “Sure, we’re scared…”

“Speak for yourself.” J’Zargo says, despite his tail flailing around anxiously and his ears almost plastered to his head. "J'Zargo will brave any undead."

“_I’m_ scared.” Onmund amends, and rolls his eyes at J’Zargo’s fake bravado. “But truth be told, I’d be terrified to leave you here even more.”

“We’re _mages_.” Brelyna says. “Well, almost all of us are mages.” she glances at Inigo. “Point is, we can fight, and we’re damn good at it.”

The light profanity takes everyone by surprise, but Brelyna pushes on.

“Six of us entered Labyrinthian, and six of us will leave Labyrinthian.” she says. “I won’t have it any other way.”

In this moment, Brelyna burns like the magma that's trickled down all the way from her ancestors to herself. That same fire spreads through the group, and finally to Tashok, who nod solemnly.

“Then we continue.” she turns and descends further down. “Malacath, give me strength.” she whispers to herself.

The group reaches a hallway at the bottom of the steps and as soon as Tashok’s foot hits the floor, a booming voice echoes throughout the entire ruin. Even more concerning, a strong wave of magical energy rushes forward with it, coming from a door in particular.

"Wo meyz wah dii vul junaar?” the voice bellows.

As it speaks, all of the mages feel their minds being twisted and crumpled. As such, their magicka quickly leaves them.

“What was that?!” Onmund yells out as he clutches his head. “What is it doing to us?”

“Oh, lovely.” Lucien’s voice breaks a bit at the end. “A big scary voice speaking in an unknown language that drains magicka! Exactly what we needed!”

Tashok glances at her Bound Bow, which she knows will extinguish itself in a few minutes and sighs.

“Guess I shouldn’t rely on this one…” she mumbles as she dispels the bow and takes out her very solid, not-summoned Orcish bow. “Time to shine.” she says to it.

The group glances about the room, noticing two draugrs at rest. Tashok decides not to risk it and plunges an arrow into one while Inigo gives the other a similar fate. Another cursory glance leads the group to conclude that there's only one way forward; through the door.

The door from which the voice seeped through. The door that is frozen solid.

“Allow J’Zargo to take care of this…” J’Zargo cracks his knuckles and sends a firebolt crashing onto the door.

It creaks open and reveals a frost spirit, which J’Zargo expertly dispatches of with another firebolt.

Tashok soon finds herself thankful for the switch to her regular bow as the voice speaks once more.

"Nivahriin muz fen siiv nid aaz het.” the voice says.

Tashok frowns, though she can’t quite figure out why. Somehow, she feels the voice meant to threaten, but instead, to her, it came off as insulting. Still, she pushes the strange feelings away in favour of dispatching the roaming draugrs.

She creeps forward in one of the many hallways when she feels a hand yank her back.

“Wait!” it’s Brelyna. “Look out there!”

She points to the floor, Tashok’s eyes trail to the area in confusion when… Oh!

A lightning rune, there on the floor.

“I’ll dispatch of it.” Brelyna says. And she does.

Each member of the group takes comfort in the knowledge that their friends are by their side.

“You do not answer…” the voice sounds vexed. “Must I use this... _guttural_ language of yours?”

“Yes!” Tashok yells in frustration, before realizing that giving away their position may not be a good idea.

As they push on, Tashok almost sighs in relief when she sees an old but functioning alchemy table.

“Really?” Inigo squeaks out. “You’re doing that?! Here? _Now_?”

“Won’t hurt to have some extra healing potions.” she tosses the first one to him. “Especially since you can’t heal yourself.”

“Eh… Point taken.”

The creepy voice doesn’t bother them until much later, when they end up in a flooded hall leading to large doors.

"Have you returned, Aren?” the voice teases cruelly. “My old friend?”

Tashok clutches at the late Arch-Mage’s amulet before pressing on. 

"Do you seek to finish that which you could not?” the voice asks as they go deeper into the ruins.

The group is thoroughly soaked by now, the cold stream passing through the ruins and the mountains leaving them wet and chilled to the bone. Brelyna cleverly casts a generalized warmth spell.

“Hold on…” Tashok says, the spell giving her an idea.

She pulls out her warmth balm, much more potent and refined by now, and rubs it onto herself as much as she can. She glances at her friends and offers it.

The cold now kept at bay, they feel much more invigorated and ready to press on.

”You only face failure once more…" the voice says mockingly.

“I’m getting the alarming impression that whoever that voice belongs to has the staff we need…” Onmund winces at the thought.

“Just our luck…” Tashok sighs.

They come upon a large chamber. A chamber that seems to be holding its own ruins. A ruin within a ruin.

They managed to strike down the skeletons stealthily, though arrows and projectile magic.

"You...you are not Aren, are you? Has he sent you in his place?” the voice finally catches on.

Only took three hours.

_This damn place has no end! _Tashok thinks as they come upon yet another chamber. A few wisps float about in an almost, happy, manner. They seem entirely carefree, and Tashok can’t bear to break their ease. She turns to her friends and promptly takes out — and off — as much of her enchanting items meant to help her be more stealthy. She and Onmund cast Muffle on themselves, and the group slinks forward.

Someway, somehow, her plan works and they slip past with the wisps none the wiser.

_"Did he warn you that your own power would be your undoing? That it would only serve to strengthen me?” _the voice slips through a door on fire.

At least, Tashok would think it’s on fire if not for the fact it’s quite clearly made of stone.

“That’s… odd.” she says.

“It is probably like the frozen door we came across before.” J’Zargo says. “Allow J’Zargo to test the theory.”

He flings a few rays of frost towards the door, and, while it takes longer to defeat the fire spirit, it too, collapses down.

“Nice.” Inigo chuckles.

“You heard what the voice said? About our power being our undoing?” Lucien says as they cross the threshold. “The Staff is said to be able to absorb magical energy…Seems Onmund was correct in his assumption.”

“That’s not good…” Brelyna says, panicked. “We’re mages! What are we supposed to fight it with?”

Tashok thinks for a moment, before setting her backpack onto the floor and pulling out multiple magicka potions.

“We prepare.” she says, handing the potions to her friends, minus Inigo. “Inigo and I are best with the bow, so we’ll stick to that. Onmund and Lucien, I know you’re pretty good with a one-handed sword, so when all else fails, fall back to that. Brelyna, J’Zargo... You'll just have to drink up when we fight, I’m afraid.”

“Right…” Brelyna’s fingers trail across one of the potions. “Ready?”

“Remember, let’s keep a low profile. If we can get the jump on whoever this is, we’ll be at an advantage.”

Soon enough, the group is faced with the progressively dwindling group of past mages. Where there was six originally, now there’s three.

“Come on, we can’t stop now!” Savos says. “We have to keep moving!”

“Where’s Elvali?” the woman ghost says. “She was right behind me!”

“Dead…” the last ghost says. “Something grabbed her from behind… Gone before I could do anything.”

“You’re right… This is all my fault.” the ghost sounds pained. “Should we turn around, head back?”

“I don’t think going back is a good idea…” the other ghost sighs, defeated.

“Going back would be the end of all of us!” Savos says. “We keep pushing forward, and we’ll make it! We will!”

“Come on…” the female ghost reaches for the male ghost gently. “You can make it… Let’s go.”

Tashok can hear, and see, the ghosts’ hopelessness and pain. Her eyes shift to her friends, thankfully all still alive and well.

_Mara… Please protect them._ she bites her lip.

“Come, face your end.” the antagonistic voice growls.

“I think… I know, it will be _yours._” Tashok mutters to it.

The next few draugrs, odd in their almost metaphysical appearance, reminding Tashok so much of her conjured weapons, are somewhat easy to fight. They may look for intimidating than regular draugrs, but aren’t much more challenging. Not for someone like Tashok, who’s been going Ruin exploring for the past few months.

Their progress is halted when a strong ray of frost smashes into her, knocking the air out of her and leaving her skin feeling like needles are digging all over the frosted areas.

“Gah!” Tashok falls into the ground, quickly surrounded by her friends, who pull her back just in time before another blast of ice crashes where she had fallen.

“It’s a gem-powered trap.” Onmund says. “Maybe with a ward, I could get closer and…”

He summons up a ward but stops when Tashok cries out frantically.

“Stop!” she pleads, voice tight from the pain. “Not with the voice messing with our magic!...That thing almost killed me.”

Tashok knows that three of those blasts would have killed her. _Her_, who’s arguably much more resilient than her friends. She brings forth all the healing magic she can, feeling Lucien pouring his into healing her as well.

Onmund looks to her with concern.

“Then how are we…?” he kneels next to her.

“I…” Tashok grunts, steadying herself and grabbing her bow. “I know a way… I’d still like your wards, but don’t get in front of me. Stay to my side...”

The two of them crouch and get as close as possible to the gem without setting it off, when finally, Tashok draws her bow. She can practically feel Onmund’s panic, but knows he’ll perform wonderfully.

“Ward!” she says as she stands quickly.

The ward breaks as soon as the blast of ice hits it, but the time between the first assault and the next is just long enough for Tashok to take aim and let the arrow loose towards the gem. It hits its mark squarely, and the gem topples to the ground, de-powered.

“It worked!” Onmund beams as he crushes Tashok in a hug. “Brilliant!”

Tashok’s face grows red at the praise, but otherwise smiles back at her friend.

“Let’s try again, yes?” she breathes.

The next three are a bit more challenging, but with enough ducking and warding, they fall too.

“Right then…!” she feels Onmund’s hand gripping hers in a mix of anxiety and hope. She turns to her friends. “All clear, now!”

A few minutes later, a draugr deathlord lies dead, truly dead, this time. It was quite challenging, and did a fair bit of damage to the group. Tashok sighs in relief as her friends take the time to both heal themselves and drink some potions, when a faint chanting drags her attention away from the moment.

To her side another one of the strange walls with the unknown writing beckons her. Her feet take her to it, the rest of her in a trance-like state, barely aware of her friends speaking to her.

** _VEGUNTHAR WahLaaN QETHSEGOL_ **

** _BORMahIL VahRUKT HUNGUNTHAR_ **

** _Time_ ** ** _ NaaK KRIaaN SE_ **

** _JUNNESEJER KRONiiD SE DUNKREATH_ **

** _…_ **

** _Time._ **

“Time?” Tashok questions out loud.

“Don’t ask her what this is about.” she hears Inigo’s voice. “She does not like to be asked.”

“What?” she spins on her heels.

“Do not worry my friend.” Inigo says. “Shall we continue?”

Tashok suddenly feels weary… They slept on their way here, but as of now they must have been traipsing through the ruins for at least four hours. The stress and strain of the unending battles and constant vigilance begin to take their toll. She finds herself wishing she was still holding on to Onmund’s hand, missing the warmth and the comfort.

“Yes… Good idea.” she says.

Tashok’s breath stops when she sees the source of the voice. The type of the mask all too familiar to her, the creature clearly undead. She was no fool, she’d inquired with Urag regarding the nature of the masks she had found long ago.

A dragon Priest.

This one is sealed inside a magical aura, which is being sustained by — Tashok gasps when she recognizes the enthralled mages — what remains of Savos’ two companions.

“Inigo.” she whispers.

“Yes?” Inigo is instantly by her side.

“We… We’ll have to get rid of the ghosts…” she points to the mages. “Then, we fight that.”

The ghosts are easily banished, leaving only the Dragon priest to battle.

—

Tashok reels in pain as a bolt of lightning courses through her. They’ve been fighting this thing for… for too long! And yet it continues to attack relentlessly.

She can see her friends growing weary from the constant onslaught of spells, and shouting that sends them painfully flying back. Worse even, the bit of magic that she did muster, using it to conjure an atronach, completely backfired as the Dragon Priest turned her creature against her.

“Fus Ro Dah!” the Sragon Priest shouts, sending both Tashok and Brelyna flying.

Unfortunately for Brelyna, it also sends her crashing off the ledge and onto the stone floor with a thunderous smack as she hits the floor, motionless.

“No!” Tashok screams, but is cut off by yet another wave of electricity from a lightning spell.

Soon, J’Zargo is also lying to the ground, not quite motionless, but clearly defeated and reeling in pain, if his clutching at his sides is an indication. Tashok’s mind clicks: the impossible strain of the lightning has forced their bodies to convulse erratically, opening up previous wounds that were almost healed.

The Dragon Priest approaches him, clearly intending to finish the job with another lightning bolt. He brings his emancipated foot down on the Khajiit’s forarm, eliciting both a cracking sound and a cry if pain, and effectively holding him in place. A surge of horror wells up within her as she forces her body to stand and starts to run, aiming her bow.

She won’t make it in time!

She releases her bow as the creature releases it’s spell, but before it can hit the wounded Khajiit, Onmund places himself between the two. He scoops his friend up, holding him with one arm and casting a ward with the other.

The ward doesn’t last long, but it doesn’t need to, as Tashok’s arrow lands between the Dragon Priest’s shoulders, breaking off its attention from the two mages.

It turns to her with fury.

Before she can draw her bow again, the Dragon Priest shouts once more, sending her flying into one of the nearby pillars behind her. The force itself is enough to make her feel like her insides are being crushed. As she collides with the pillar, she lets out a shriek of pain, feeling her arm being pulled _much too far_ to be natural or healthy, and her shoulder makes a subdued pop sound.

She grips at her shoulder, regretting it immediately when the pain sends spikes of black through her vision. She’s vaguely aware of the Dragon Priest, but can’t seem to focus. As her vision swims less, she’s thankful for her three remaining friends keeping the Dragon Priest occupied.

She grits her teeth through the pain and goes back to touching her injury, and realizes that the bone isn’t broken, thankfully. Her shoulder’s been pulled out of its socket.

This is okay…

This can be amended.

She braces herself against the very pillar that caused this and pushes, forcing her joint back the way it’s supposed to be, though her body protests by sending waves of pain.

Looking around, she sees that many of the contents of her backpack have been scattered from the hit. She dives for her bow and once again draws her bow, but stops almost as soon as she started with a pained cry.

She can’t bring herself to pull the string far enough. Not with her freshly dislocated shoulder still tender. Despite her panic, she sees that the enemy is on the edge of dying, and this fills her with a vicious determination. Even with Brelyna still unmoving, and J’Zargo having gone silent. She can’t give up now.

**YOU WILL STAND AND FIGHT. **She feels a voice urging her, from the back of her mind. Much like a thought, though the thought doesn’t sound the same as her usual ones.

“Inigo!” Lucien cries out as Inigo drops to his knees from the electricity coursing through him. “Hold on!”

Tashok glances around… She’s useless with her bow now, and the thought fills her with dread. She’s an archer who can shoot! Her good arm clutches at her Orcish dagger, the one she crafted so many months ago with Dushnamub, and enchanted with Sergius recently. Her eyes fall on one of the many items fallen from her backpack… A scroll. One of J’Zargo's scrolls. The ones hat exploded when used but were wickedly effective against the undead.

Undead...

Like the Dragon Priest.

She stumbles towards it, her free and aching arm grabs the scroll before she turns to face the revenant with ferocity in her posture.

This thing dies _today_.

The Dragon Priest’s attention is partly returned to her and she lunges at him with a snarl, activating the scroll as she does.

She hates the sensation of burning. More than electricity, more than bitter frost. There's nothing more painful to her than the awful feeling of your skin breaking apart from the heat.

She grits her teeth as the scroll sets her ablaze and sinks her dagger into the enemy’s chest, lifting it upwards with a harsh motion. The creature, though his face is hidden, clearly begins to panic as it feels both the flames licking away at his life-force and the dagger seep out his health.

With a scream, Tashok digs the dagger deeper.

The Dragon Priest lifts his hand to strike at her with lightning once more, but an ebony arrow flies by Tashok’s head — missing it by centimetres — and planting itself right into the eye opening of the mask.

With this, Tashok feels the creature go limp and she gives a sharp exhale, dropping the blade and falling backwards as the undead being crumples to the ground.

The flames from the flamecloak continue to swirl for a few seconds before finally snuffing themselves out, leaving the chamber with a tense silence, safe for the echoing of the group’s heavy breathing.

“I’ll heal him!” she hears Lucien speak.

He rushes to J’Zargo and begins pouring healing magic into the unconscious Khajiit.

“Brelyna!” Tashok gasps as she shakily runs to where her friend had fallen.

The Dunmer lays unmoving, eyes closed and Tashok begins to sprint as she fears the worst.

“Please, please, please, please…” Tashok cries as she kneels.

She lets out a shaky breath of relief when she feels that Brelyna is still alive, if not faintly. She pours as much healing energy into her as possible, only stoping when her magicka runs dry.

She takes Brelyna in her arms, gently turning her to look for injuries until her eyes fall on a bloody spot on the back of Brelyna’s head.

“Is she…?” she hears Onmund’s strangled question.

He doesn’t seem to be able to finish voicing it, as if saying it will make it real.

“She’s alive.” Tashok swallows hard. “We need to get her to safety.”

Tashok tries to lift her friend, something which she’s done a few times before, but her shoulder cries in pain.

“Ugh… I can’t…” she mumbles. “My arm…”

“I can bring her.” Inigo approaches them, both the Dragon Priest mask and the Staff of Magnus in hand, which he hands to Lucien. “There.”

He lifts her, thankful the Dunmer weighs little.

“And J’Zargo?” Tashok scans the area for her friend.

“Present.” the Khajiit coughs out, unwilling to say much more.

Tashok takes in the state of her friends: J’Zargo looks like he’s hanging by a thread, standing and walking out of pride rather than any sort of well-being. Lucien’s lip is split and one of his eyes shows signs of swelling, but he otherwise looks well enough. Inigo’s fur is still standing from the electricity, and his muscles are clearly still twitching from the involuntary convulsions caused by the lightning, but he holds Brelyna firmly and stands strong. Onmund looks battered, his nose seemingly broken and bloody, but shows no signs of pain, unlike his Khajiit compatriot.

They shuffle out of the chamber feeling drained, but thankful to all be alive.

They encounter the ghost of Savos, clutching his head as he cries out.

“…I’m sorry, friends. I’m so sorry! I had no choice.” he sounds mournful. “It was the only way to make sure that monster never escaped! I promise you, I’ll never let this happen again! I’ll seal this whole place away…”

He disappears, leaving them in silence. Tashok stares at the empty space where he stood and brings her uninjured hand to her face, sobbing.

“We made it…” Tashok says as tears begin to fall from her eyes. “I was so scared…”

“That we’d end up like them…” Onmund says, understanding. “But we didn’t.”

Lucien lets his hand rest on her shoulder.

“It wasn’t easy, but we have it!” his voice is tired but triumphant. “The Staff of Magnus… Now, let’s get back to the College and put a stop to whatever Ancano’s doing with the Eye.”

“Right…” Tashok shakes her head, as if this will banish the sudden rush of emotions. “If we can’t help the others, this’ll have been for nothing… Let’s go.”

Tashok feels the gust of Skyrim’s air close by and her heart flutters at the knowledge that they’re almost out of this pitiful place.

Her hope gets crushed when a Thalmor agent steps between her and the exit.

“So, you made it out here alive. Ancano was right: you _are _dangerous.” the Thalmor says. “I’m afraid I’ll have to take that Staff from you now. Ancano wants it kept safe… Oh, and he wants you dead. Nothing personal.”

“I don’t want to fight you…” Tashok pleads. “I have no quarrel with you, please just let us pass…”

“I’m afraid you do…” the Thalmor chuckles lowly and prepares to cast a spell towards her.

Tashok braces herself when a line of crackling lightning erupts from behind her and sends the Thalmor reeling. Onmund steps in front of the group quickly and casts another, killing the Thalmor.

“Not if I can’t help it…” he sneers.

“Gods… The Thalmor just don’t give up, do they?” Lucien says. “Now I’m even more desperate to give Ancano a piece of my mind.”

The group exits into the frigid night, shivering from both exhaustion and the cold. They reach Dawnstar, opting to stay at the Inn to recover their injuries, even for just a few hours. Tashok changed out of her bloodied armoured robes and into loose fitting sleeping wear, which for her consists of beige capri pants and an ash-coloured tank top. The inn is more than warm enough for this attire to be comfortable.

It also makes it that the clothing reveals many forming bruises, with the most severe one being on her injured left shoulder. Something was definitely torn.

“The three of you should stay here…” Tashok tells Onmund as they watch over Brelyna and J’Zargo’s sleeping forms.

“What?! I’m not letting you go there on your own!” Onmund protests. “I told you, we’re in this together.”

“I know… but look at them! They won’t have recovered by the time we leave. Brelyna still hasn’t awakened. And even if she does, the roads aren’t always safe and neither her nor J’Zargo will be in any state to defend themselves.”

Onmund opens his mouth to argue, but the words die on his tongue.

“I don’t like the idea of letting you face danger like that.” he says.

“I won’t be alone…” Tashok insists. “I’ll have Lucien and Inigo. And the other mages at the College!"

Onmund runs a hand through his hair and down his face, letting his palms cover it completely. He sits like this for several seconds before turning his head to his friend.

“Please be careful…” he finally relents.

He stands and pulls at something on his neck. His amulet slips off.

“Here…” he hands her the amulet with shaking hands. “I know it’s ridiculous, but I want part of me to be with you when you face Ancano. For good luck?”

“Onmund it’s yours…” Tashok’s voice is barely above a breath as her hand hovers over the gift.

“You can give it back to me after.” Onmund doesn’t give up, taking Tashok’s hand and gently pulling her fingers back in order to slip the amulet into her palm.

Tashok stares at the amulet, feels Onmund's hands still trembling, and understands. Onmund doesn’t want to lose his friend either, and if this helps put his mind at ease, then she’ll wear it.

“Thank you…” she says as she slips it on with a smile. “I will…”

—

At this point Tashok’s stomach and heart have been on a strenuous journey, dropping and stopping too many times to count, respectively. This is why neither of them really react when she sees that the mages are all outside the College, on the bridge, instead of inside the College. She still feels uneasy, however.

She thinks back to Brelyna, who woke up this morning with a killer nausea and extreme sensitivity to lights and sounds, too dizzy to do stand, and is thankful she made her friends stay behind.

“You survived!” Tolfdir breathes a sigh of relief, but frowns sadly as soon as he sees that the other apprentices are missing. “And… the others?”

“In Dawnstar…” Tashok reassures him. “Brelyna and J’Zargo got hurt pretty bad, and Onmund stayed with them.”

“Oh, thank the Nine…You have it, then? Let's hope it's as powerful as the Psijics believe it to be.”

Tashok glances about as she does a mental tally of the members.

“Where’s Mirabelle?” she asks.

"She... She didn't make it.” Tolfdir looks down. “When it was clear we were going to have to fall back, she stayed behind and made sure the rest of us were all right.”

“…What?...”

Tashok’s voice hitches and her breath quickens. She feels like she’s going to cry again.

“So… You had to fall back?” she forces herself to get more information. “What happened?”

"Look for yourself.” Tolfdir motions to what seems like a growing forcefield surrounding the College. “Ancano’s power is growing. We can't crack whatever magic he's using to shield himself. I hope your trip to Labyrinthian was worth it.”

“The Staff absorbs magical energy.” Tashok lifts it up. “Let’s get this back under control.”

She fires the staff right at the barrier, and it wavers before dissipating.


	5. The Eye of Magnus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tashok breaks the barrier and makes her way to the Eye, determined to put a stop to Ancano's plans once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of canon divergence/creative freedom here, so I hope it flows properly!

“I’ll be amazed if any of us survive this…” Arniel grumbles as the barrier finally disappears completely.

“Have faith, Arniel.” Toldfir scolds him. “Look out!”

An anomaly flies at them angrily, but as it turns out, the creature is much less daunting when alone. That, or Tashok’s fight with the Dragon Priest has skewed her sense of what fight is easy and which is not.

Pearl slips between Tashok’s legs, agitated and scared.

“Oh I’m so sorry Pearl…” Tashok bends down and picks him up with one arm, ignoring the pain in her shoulder from the weight. “I’ll fix it, promise.”

She lays a quick kiss on Pearl’s head, as she searches for someone to keep him safe. Her eyes fall on Orthorn.

“Orthorn!” she calls out and bridges the distance between the two.

“Y-yes?” he tenses at her approach.

“I need you to keep Pearl safe.” she hands him the pet. “Far from here, please.”

“Right.” he nods.

She turns her attention back to the problem at hand and begins taking the lead, her two friends and Toldfdir following closely. They quickly cross the courtyard together and push the doors open.

“You've come for me, have you?” Ancano spits as they walk in. His previous composure is utterly gone, and his voice is strained and frantic. “You think I don't know what you're up to? You think I can't destroy you? The power to unmake the world at my fingertips, and you think you can do anything about it?”

“Enough!” Tolfdir yells and unfurls a fireball in Ancano’s direction. The flames, however, wrap around Ancano without doing any hard damage before flickering out.

"Spells have no effect!” Tolfdir gasps.

Tashok finds it a bit early to make such a broad assumption, considering only one spell has been attempted, but she doesn’t want to waste her time casting her magic on him. Especially since her magic isn’t directly offensive.

“Ah! I am beyond your pathetic attempts at magic.” Ancano cackles. “You cannot touch me.”

Tashok starts pulling her bow out to test his claims, but Tolfdir spins around and locks eyes with the Staff of Magnus.

"The staff!” he cries out his epiphany. “Use it on the Eye!”

She quickly obliges, sending a steady stream into the Eye. This approach either works, or is just enough to annoy Ancano, because he halts whatever he was doing to face them angrily and whips a spell at them.

“Enough!” he shouts as the spell hits them.

Tashok feels herself tensing up, similarly to how the electricity had forced her muscles into rigidity right before becoming spastic. It sends her reeling back, struggling to stand, but she manages to stand straight once one.

Ancano blinks at her in surprise, clearly having expected a different outcome.

“Still you persist?” he sneers at Tashok. “Very well. Come then. See what I can do now.”

To her horror, she sees that her friends, along with Tolfdir have fallen to the ground and remain stiff and unmoving. Tashok tastes bile as her mind determines the worst possible outcome.

“No, no… NO!” she starts screaming, spinning to face Ancano in panic. “WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

If Tashok had spent a few seconds examining her friends, she would see that they were merely paralyzed, not dead. But she doesn’t have this luxury, as Ancano casts Incinerate straight towards her.

“I will not be defeated!” he shouts.

Tashok barely has the time to dodge as the flames lick at her dangerously, singeing part of her robes. She casts a ward up with one had and points the staff towards the orb. The Eye lashes multiple tendrils of white-blue light, which hit her with full force. They don’t knock her back, however, but instead fill her back with magicka along with manic rage.

She turns to him angrily, getting ready to strike at him with her dagger, when she sees he’s backed away from her and is now fighting a magic anomaly.

It must have sprung up when she used the Staff of Magnus on the eye, and it seems completely uninterested in her, focussing on attacking Ancano.

_Good. _she thinks bitterly.

She sprints towards him and swings, catching him in the back, slicing swiftly through his dark robes. He hisses in pain and manages to twist himself away from the blade. He spins around furiously and sends a lightning bolt her way, staggering her backwards while her body convulses. The sensation is too recent, too fresh in her mind, and she feels as if she were back in Labyrinthian, her nerves raw and her friends in mortal peril.

She supposes the ones who are left _are_… Everyone will be if Ancano wins.

The Eye of Magnus begins thrumming and opening up again, but Tashok immediately shuts it down with the staff once more. Ancano has defeated the anomaly, and now turns his attention to the new one that has sprung up.

She quickly switches to the lightweight bow she picked from the many draugrs of Labyrinthian and pulls back the string, fighting the screaming pain of her shoulder. She drops her action, tears prickling at her eyes as her body protests the motion with pain. She takes a deep breath and looks up to Ancano, who’s finishing the anomaly off once again.

She grits her teeth and tries again, not bothering to muffle the cry of agony that slips from her lips as she does so.

She lets her arrow loose and it hits Ancano right in the stomach, forcing him to keel in pain.

“Enough of this!” he grunts as he clutches his stomach.

An excellent side effect of this bow is its enchantment that drains the victim’s magicka.

She sees Ancano's resolve begin to falter.

He begins to panic, in fact, as he realizes she may be starting to win their fight. She feels fury at the sight of him — the Arch-Mage, Mirabelle, a number of Winterhold guards — dead because of him, and her friends, _hurt_ because of him.

**_Don’t forget your dead friends lying next to you…_ a wordless voice pushes into her mind.**

** _You should avenge them… He doesn’t deserve to live._ **

** _Kill him._ **

** _End it, you’re strong enough._ **

** _Use the power at your fingertips…_ **

** _The one right next to you._ **

** _Stop running from the power you so righteously deserve and USE it._ **

** _Make him pay._ **

** _Kill him._ **

Tashok pulls on the string one again, gritting her teeth when the pain returns in full force, almost making her arm waver, but she screams to let it out, aims with murder coursing through her veins and shoots.

Ancano, for his part, begins to panic as soon as the arrow lodges into him, taking away his magicka. This isn’t good. Not at all.

He tries to call on the Eye’s power, but it remains silent.

A scream, one of rage, pain and thirst for bloodshed sends his head shooting up.

The cold hatred in the apprentice’s eyes freeze him in place and the arrow sinks into his neck with sharp precision.

He drops down, desperately clutching at his neck as he feels the blood quickly seeping out, spreading a warm dampness through his gloves and down his hands, into his robes.

The weight of his mistakes come crashing down on his as he feels his consciousness slipping.

It seems everything he does is doomed to fail.

When did his priorities shift from acquiring power for the Aldmeri Dominion to acquiring power for himself?

It doesn’t matter, he realizes with horror.

He sees the blurred form of the Orc stomp towards him, dagger in hand.

** _Once he’s gone, no one will stand in your way. _ **

The thoughts keep invading Tashok’s mind, fuelling her rage. She grips the dagger tighter.

** _You’ll be the most powerful one. No one will dare challenge you. And if they do, eradicate them. Think of all you could do with such power._ **

** _Dominate everything. Take over. _** ** _You could make it so nothing like this happens again._ **

** _You can. _ **

**_You want to. It’s in your nature..._ **

The words feel like a slap to the face and shake Tashok out of her tunnel vision.

“No…” she looks to her dagger, feels her fingertips grow cold from how tightly she’s gripping it.

Then she looks at Ancano and sees his look of pure, unconcealed terror.

And it’s directed at her.

She drops the dagger and brings her hands to her mouth, horrified. This is someone she knows.

She tried to like him, and hadn’t been able to with all his rejections, but couldn’t bring herself to hate him. Not enough to murder him. If killing the Severins had upset her, this was an entirely new level of pain.

“No!” she gasps, voice breaking. “I’m sorry!”

Not too long ago she’d hovered over his bed, helping him through a fever and back to health.

And now she was killing him.

She sinks to her knees and presses a shaking hand to the wound, earning a flinch from Ancano, though whether this is pain or being of being strangled, neither of them know.

She sees the awareness slip from his eyes while she maintains pressure and heals him with one hand, and pulls out the arrow slowly with the other.

He goes lip, but beneath her fingers his heart beats on.

She stays still, shocked, unable to move or think as she holds her breath, hoping the heartbeat doesn’t waver.

“I can’t believe it!” she recognizes the voice as Lucien. “After all that, paralyzed for the final battle!”

Paralyzed…

Paralyzed?

Her head whips around and indeed. Her friends and teacher are slowly standing up.

“Well, I’m glad that bastard’s dead, anyway…” he continues, then looks to her. “Let’s talk to Toldfir.”

Lucien and Inigo cross the hall to close the distance between them, and stop shy of two feet from her.

“Wait… He’s alive?!” Lucien gapes.

“My friend… You…” Inigo tilts his head in confusion. “You let him live?”

“You healed him!” Lucien sees the obvious work of a healing spell.

“I couldn’t do it.” Tashok’s lips quiver as much as her voice. “Please don’t make me do it.”

She still hasn’t let go of the unconscious Thalmor.

“We won’t…” Lucien says softly as he helps loosen her death grip on Ancano. “Let’s get you somewhere else. Away from _that_.” he motions to the Eye.

Tolfdir, for his part, sprints towards her, elated.

“I knew you could to it!” he says. “Sit, quickly.”

Lucien guides her to the nearest bench, and her Eyes drift to the Eye of Magnus. Still thrumming, still sending her those awful emotions.

“What do we do now?” she mumbles, barely able to form words. Her eyes snap to the orb. “What do we do with_ that_?”

“I… I don’t know. Ancano isn’t a problem anymore, but whatever he’s done to the Eye doesn't seem to have stopped.” he turns to the Eye and his shoulders sag. “I have no idea what to do.”

As he too slumps on the bench, exhausted, the image of the Psijic Mage, Quaranir, flickers before the Eye, and then becomes completely solid. He spots Tashok and approaches her.

"We knew you would succeed.” he says. “Your victory here justifies our belief in you. You have proven yourself more than worthy to guide the College of Winterhold.”

“How did you know I could do it?” she asks.

"A great many things obscured to you are quite clear to us. We have long believed you would prevail."

“ That’s… Nice, I guess.” she looks to the Eye. “What happens now? We can’t stop whatever is happening to the Eye…”

"The Eye has grown unstable. It cannot remain here, or else it may destroy this College and this world. It must be secured. Ancano's actions prove that the world is not ready for such a thing. We shall safeguard it... for now. You now have the opportunity to maintain your College, and carry on with your lives.”

Tashok chuckles mirthlessly. As if it’ll be that easy.

“You have our gratitude, Arch-Mage.” Quaranir says before more Psijics appear to take the Eye away.

The fact that the Eye will finally be away from her is almost enough for her not to notice his words.

Almost.

“Wait- What?!” she squeaks.

The Psijics do not respond, and soon the Hall of the Elements looks as if neither they nor the Eye had ever been there.

That is, if there wasn’t tremendous damage to the College, at least two dead College members and Ancano, unconscious but stable, on the stone floor. She sits still on the bench, paralyzed by both pain and shock.

“I’m sorry, did I hear that right?” Lucien turns to her in disbelief. “Did they just make you the new Arch-Mage?”

The reality his her like a tidal wave and she feels her knees buckle. It's a good thing she's sitting. She feels Lucien keep her steady from his side while Inigo sits by her.

“Ahan…” Tashok nods numbly, leaning into him as the mere thought makes her knees feel like jelly.

“I’m sorry, but that’s insane! How long have we even been here for? How many lectures did we actually attend?” Lucien says. “Because that’s not a very large number, I assure you.”

“Could count it on both hands…” she lifts up shaking hands, wincing as her shoulder erupts in sharp pain once more.

“Exactly!" Lucien takes her injured arm and sets it on her lap "And now they want you to run the whole place?!”

"..." Tashok doesn't respond and takes a while before even blinking. She turns to him slowly, eyes still wider than normal. "I need some air."

They lead her outside the doors.

“We’re hardly ever even here!” Lucien continues, disbelieving. “We have so many other commitments it’s _actually_ ridiculous.”

“Surely they must know about your children!” Inigo adds.

“I think I’m gonna puke…” Tashok whimpers.

She can’t think about all this.

She’s not ready to be a leader. She doesn’t want to be a leader.

She glances up at the other members of the College, Pearl included, and feels a rush of warmth to see them alive. She also notes that Colette is hunched over Mirabelle’s body, healing her?

Faralda must have seen her puzzlement because she approaches her swiftly, relief painted over her face.

“She’s alive!” Faralda smiles to Tashok as she takes her shoulders in hand. “You did it! You saved us!”

* * *

Tashok awakens the next day, or so she thinks, sore and still utterly drained. Her limbs feel glued to the mattress, which almost seems to suck her in like quicksand. The past few days have been taxing on her, mentally and physically, though she feels a weight has been lifted off of her now that the Eye is gone.

"Good afternoon, my daughter." she hears Erandur's voice and her mind short circuits.

Erandur? Here? In the College?

She turns to him incredulously, her face twisting in confusion. A confusion which does not ease when she sees that he is, in fact, right there at her door.

"Erandur?" she asks.

She kicks herself mentally for the useless question. Who else would it be? A shapeshifter masquerading as Erandur?!

"I don't understand..." she says. "How did you get here?.

"Why, I hired a carriage." Erandur smirks softly. "But I know this is not what you mean... News of the events which unfolded at the College reached us back in Falkreath. I came as soon as I heard there was trouble, though it seems I may have missed the action."

He comes to sit on her bed, by her thighs.

"How are you feeling?" he asks with concern.

"I'm fine..." she lies.

Erandur gives her a sad smile, knowing that she is nowhere near fine, if what he's been told is anything to go by. She stands eerily still, eyes wide yet unfocussed as the memories of the last few days play out in her mind.

Her friends could have died.

She could have died.

The Arch-Mage _did_ die.

She swallows despite her throat feeling like it's constricting on itself. She hears Erandur shuffle closer to her.

"I've heard you've been put under a lot of pressure. That you still are, with your new title..." he takes her hand gently. "It's alright not to be alright..."

His reassurance seems to break her as hot tears begin streaming down her bruised face. She doesn't waste much time to throw herself into his arms, or let him pull her closer for that matter, face buried in his shoulder. Normally she'd never dare to be so forward, so obvious with her distress but the recent events have exhausted her ability to filter her actions.

"I was so scared..." her voice comes off muffled. "I thought they'd get killed..." she gulps. "I almost killed Ancano!"

"Is that the Thalmor?" Erandur asks as he rubs her back gently.

She nods sharply, not trusting herself to speak more.

"I see... Well, you've certainly shown him more mercy than he deserved." he pauses. "Where is he now?"

She simply shrugs, unwilling to think about it and hoping her silence will grant her some time to decompress.

As it were, the mages had found themselves unsure as to where they could possibly put Ancano. The College isn't typically in the business of having prisoners, and so the fact that they would soon need to accommodate one left them a bit stunted.

The jail of Winterhold wouldn't do... Much too far.

Ancano's old room was deemed both too comfortable and too close to the other members of the College. In addition, they would need to rearrange the lock, which, after the last few days, was too entirely too much trouble.

There was one place with cells that could do, however.


	6. Fallout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tashok visits a now awakened Ancano, but whatever reparations that could've been done are cut short by both the Thalmor and the Stormcloaks wanting to dish out their own justice to Ancano.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could've also alternatively called this "Tashok sighs".

Ancano slowly regains his factions, and the first thing he becomes aware of is the bitter cold enveloping him. He groans… His room just keeps getting colder, it seems. He’s seriously starting to consider swallowing his pride and simply asking the Orc apprentice for more of her warmth balm, instead of swapping some of the other College members'. Not like they’d be missing it for long, as the Orc apprentice always seems to make them more.

Somehow his mind supplies that this won’t be possible.

But why?

He jolts awake as he remembers the events of the past few days. His breath picks up, coming out as fog, thanks to the cold, while he looks around to his surroundings. This isn’t his pathetic room.

This is a cell. A few more analyzing glances of his surroundings leads him to the conclusion that he is in the Midden.

He’s come here enough times to recognize it.

He’s surprised to be alive. The last thing he remembered, he was slipping away, an arrow deep inside his neck and the apprentice approaching dangerously with her dagger. But no…

The apprentice… She’d looked aghast, and dropped down next to him. Pressed her hand against the bleeding wound.

After everything, she saved him.

The realization tastes like ashes in his mouth. She must be _so proud_ of herself. How _noble_ of her to show him _mercy_. As if anything that comes next for him would be a mercy, doomed as he is.

His eyes fall to his hands and he notes that he’s been bound with something that appears to be suppressing his ability to regenerate his magicka. Sergius must have put all his anger into that enchantment. He also notes he’s been placed on a straw mattress with a relatively thick blanket.

He sighs and shuffles back until he hits the wall. Here in the Midden, he has plenty of time to mull over his mistakes.

He curses himself. How could he call himself an Altmer, much less a Thalmor?

Thalmor don’t let their feelings ruin carefully laid plans years in the making… Yet he did.

Thalmor don’t get a second chance and then blow it months after being stationed.

He yells out in frustration and hears his scream echo back to him. Teasing him.

There’s no one here to listen to him. No one here to blame.

Only himself.

Only himself and his stupid mind who thought any of this was a good idea.

It seemed fine at first: unlock the powers of the Eye of Magnus, become powerful, be of undeniable use to the Aldmeri Dominion. Simple!

So simple and yet he managed to completely fuck it up.

It just figures he would. Of course he _fucking_ would.

He’d been so worried that the Thalmor would rescind their kind opportunity for him to redeem himself. His assignment was supposed to be straightforward:

Become advisor to the Arch-Mage. Influence him to favour the Thalmor over the Stormcloaks in the region. Report on all activities and research done in the College.

But no! He had to try and make himself indispensable. Make himself powerful enough he’d be such a great asset that the Thalmor wouldn’t even dream of getting rid of him!

He should’ve known better. _No one_ is indispensable to the Thalmor.

Maybe he did know. Maybe that’s why the more he tried to pry power from the Eye, the more his focus turned to becoming powerful enough to defeat them, should they come for him. And so, any attempt to stop him became an attempt to get him killed, such was his belief.

It became easy, then, to dispatch of his colleagues here at the College.

The thought takes him by surprise.

When did he start thinking of the mages here as his colleagues, instead of that title belonging to his fellow Thalmor?

Perhaps it was when some Stormcloaks had come months ago, claiming that the presence of a Thalmor on their _territory_ was an affront, and that his mere existence here warranted his death. When the rest of the mages had in no uncertain terms told them that the College was_ not_ their territory, and that if they came to threaten a fellow member again, they would be repelled by force.

Yes that must have been then.

This doesn’t mean he held them any affection, however. They made their dislike for him quite clear and Ancano had used their disdain to fuel his own. Making his job that much harder just to spite him. The only member of the College he enjoyed was that damnable cat with the purple bow. What was the name the Orc apprentice always called him?

Pearl. That’s it. Pearl was the only member that was enjoyable to be around. He was quiet, friendly, and there was no chance whatsoever that he would ever hold Ancano’s own vulnerability against him. People aren’t to be trusted: they’ll find a way to use you.

The cat was a safe bet. A safe way to have company without needing to worry about how he came across. Ancano hopes the poor thing survived the whole Eye of Magnus ordeal. He’d be quite put off if it became one of his casualties.

Ancano chuckles dryly. He knows he should regret the death of the Arch Mage, but he finds his emotions quite empty on that front. He knows it was a mistake to kill him, but he can’t seem to be able to muster up any guilt, despite knowing he should be.

He wonders what will become of him now. Will they have a trial for him? And then what?

Kill him? Keep him imprisoned until he withers away?

Neither of these options are very enticing.

His blood turns to ice when his mind so helpfully provides him with another alternative: what if the Aldmeri Dominion come for him? They must have heard of his actions by now, or they will soon. Then they won’t waste any time coming here… It just makes sense. They must tie up loose ends, and a rogue member who went and caused a minor catastrophe in Stormcloak territory will most definitely be seen as a loose end.

He wonders what they’ll do to him. They’ll either want to bury his actions along with his very existence, or want to make an example out of him. Will they cart him off back to the Summerset Isles? Keep him here in Skyrim somewhere? Perhaps bring him to Solitude to prove to the Empire that they had nothing to do with his plans.

Will they execute him? That’d be the best option for him.

He doesn’t let his mind even begin to conceptualize the other options.

“What have I done…” he whispers to himself as he lets his head fall back onto the stone wall.

He spends some time forcing his mind steer off whatever his future may hold. No need to get himself rattled now. Instead, he lets his mind wander to the past.

To his home in the Summerset Isles, to his years as a Thalmor agent, and to his time at the College. He begins to map out the College in his mind, taking a pretend tour of the grounds using his memory.

He pretends to wake up in his small closet of a room, meticulously slipping into his uniform, ending with his thin black gloves. Walking past the apprentices’ rooms, most of them still in bed or getting ready for the day.

_Are they all here?_ his mind asks.

_Yes. _he decides. It’s much easier to imagine that way, and somewhat more comforting.

He’s just reach the Arcaneum in his little fantasy when he hears the latch door to the Midden creak open, making him tense up despite himself.

He forces himself to sit squarely. Just because he’s beaten and helpless doesn’t mean he needs to actually look the part. When he sees who’s shown up, his body almost instinctively relaxes.

Just the Orc apprentice, nothing to worry about…

Except no. As he’s so violently found out, there _is_ much to be afraid of in the seemingly meek apprentice.

She comes to a stop in front of his cell and stand there for a moment, cat nested in her arm. Has she come here to mock him? She might be, but she looks as nervous as Ancano feels.

He dares to lock eyes with her, determined to stay strong, and they spend a long time staring at each other in silence. During this time Ancano notes that despite being victorious, the Orc looks quite haggard. Bruises and cuts at various stages of healing peak out of her robes, and upon further notice, Ancano notices a sling wrapped around one of her arms.

Both occasionally open their mouths, as if to speak, but when no words come out, they close it again. Both have many things they want to say, to ask, but neither do it. What could they possibly start with?

I’m sorry?

What happens now?

Why did you do what you did?

Those questions remain unspoken, and the silence and unbroken eye contact begins to beat at Ancano’s resolve. He’s about to look away, when the Orc beats him to it my glancing down at her cat.

“Pearl was looking for you.” her voice, sharp and clear, pierces the silence.

She lowers the cat to the ground, who quickly crosses the distance, slipping between the bars and jumping on Ancano’s lap.

“I see…” is all he manages to say, bringing his bound hands to rest atop the furry creature.

The apprentice stands awkwardly for a few seconds before speaking again, wringing her robes. Why does she keep doing that? It creates unsightly wrinkles in her robes and gives off the impression that she’s nervous. She needs to learn to be harder to read… Especially when it comes to displaying feelings that make her easier to exploit.

“You know, there’s a cave opening that leads out into Skyrim from here…” she says, pointing tosomewhere in the distance with her good hand. “Found it a while back.”

“Hmm…”Ancano hums in response, unsure of what the Orc expects him to say.

“It’s kind of strange, really. This whole place is… I found a lab down here, also. Did you see it too?”

He nods.

“Still trying to figure out what I can do with it though…” she continues. “I’m honestly surprised we don’t use this place more, especially now that I cleared out the spiders and the skeletons…”

“So that was you.” Ancano says.

He remembers being pleasantly surprised not to be attacked the last few times he’d come down to the Midden.

“Oh? Hm, yes! It was. Wasn’t too hard really.” she scratches her cheek, eyes fixed to the side. “You wouldn’t believe how full of spiders and skeletons Skyrim can be! The trick is to get them from afar, before they see you coming. I like using my bow. The one I summon.”

_She’s rambling…_ Ancano realizes.

He’d usually groan and try to go anywhere but this, but this time he doesn’t. Mainly because he’s stuck in a cell, fingers sifting through Pearl’s fur. But also, though he won’t admit it, because her rambling keeps his mind from thinking about his dreary fate.

“This one time, I was walking around near Whiterun at night and this mage skeleton just started hurling ice at me!” she goes on. “I have no clue where it came out from, honestly. They usually tend to stick near some sort of significant location… Like a crypt, a cave, a dungeon, a landmark… Spiders are usually just in caves. Creepy things… Inigo likes fighting them. I for one am getting sick of the wretched things… Always spitting venom at me… I did manage to create a bit of a counter poison for them. Definitely had enough samples to work with.”

She continues to babble about frostbite spiders for a few minutes, until she segways into something else.

“I keep telling the kids to stay close to the house when it gets dark. The spiders are always more forward at night.” she explains. “And so are the skeevers… And the wolves. And the stupid necromancers! Ugh. What is it about necromancers that makes them so unpleasant?”

The Orc looks hilariously cross.

“And what makes them think that going to do their business right next to my house is a good idea?” she continues. “I mean, seriously… And then they act surprised that there’s people around? What are they even _thinking_?!”

“Best guess: they aren’t.” Ancano supplies.

He knows he hadn’t been thinking when he attacked her. Well, he had been. He’d simply thought he’d win. Hadn’t been thinking _right_, then.

“Yeah, that sounds about right…” Tashok chuckles. “And they always attack me on sight, even when I try to be friendly… Even when I try to walk around them! I mean… Here I am, trying to pick up some lavender, then smack! Icicle to the face! I just wanted to make some tea…”

Her eyes drift back to Ancano, who'd dared to be amused at this little anecdote, and she quickly deflates, losing the easy demeanour she’d just had, taking with her the small sliver of mirth she'd managed to bring to him.

“That reminds me, I should probably bring you something to eat…” she says. “You’ve been out for about three days, so you must be starving!”

Ancano stops to think. Is he hungry? A few seconds of introspection lead him to conclude that yes, he is.

“I should get on that… Uh…” she gesticulates nervously, unsure of what to do or what to say. “See you later?”

She gives him a half-hearted wave and disappears.

“Stupid!” he hears her mutter to herself in the distance. “He doesn’t want to see you again - you almost killed him!”

She must think he can’t hear her, but the Midden can carry sounds quite far it seems. Then, with the click of the latch, the Midden becomes silent, safe for the steady, low purr of Pearl. Ancano lets his fingers scratch gently at the cat’s chin for some time, until he hears the latch open once more. He straightens again, certain that the Orc has sent someone else to bring him food. Much like she voiced to herself earlier, Ancano can’t quite fathom why the apprentice would want to see him again after everything. He’s a bit too tired to hide his surprise.

“Hey, it’s me again…” she says, before wincing. “Ugh… You know that, obviously. Sorry.”

He quirks his eyebrow, perplexed. Why in the world is_ she_ the one apologizing? And for what? She sets the food down before pulling out a small key and swinging the door open, leaning down to scoop the meal once more and bringing it to Ancano.

“What happened to your arm?” he finds himself asking as she sets the food down.

He freezes at his own unbidden question. Why ask? Who cares what happened?

Well, he cares, apparently. It’s uncommon for the Orc to be injured like this. A few bruises or cuts, yes. But something that affects her days later? That’s new.

Still, he doesn’t know why he asked. As if she would answer. Tell _him_ about a weakness she has, even if temporary.

She also seems surprised at his question. He’s never really asked about her wellbeing before, and now, after everything that’s happened, it feels almost like deception.

She frowns down at him, stepping back hastily as if he’s struck her.

His mouth sets in a thin line. This is it. This is where he’s pushed her patience too far and she’ll be done pretending to be kind. He fully expects her to take his meal away in anger, kick it across the room perhaps.

Instead, she begins wringing her hands through her robe, eyes darting from side to side.

“Oh, uh… That…” she chuckles nervously without any mirth. “Happened in Labyrinthian.”

The name doesn’t register as familiar, and he lets his confusion show.

“Labyrinthian!” she looks offended at his lack of knowledge. “Where the Staff of Magnus was? That death-trap of a ruin where you sent that Thalmor to kill me?”

Oh. That makes sense. He’d told Estormo to tail the Orc, knowing that the College would most likely send _her_ to try and reverse his efforts, assuminglyby retrieving the Eye of Magnus. He’d told him to kill her if necessary, and that she was a danger to his plans.

“Ah.” Ancano looks down at his food, unable to keep looking at the increasingly upset Orc.

He hears her huff, then storm out of the cell and out the Midden, slamming the latch shut.

“Wrow?” Pearl cocks his head to the side, wondering what’s gotten his owner so frustrated.

* * *

Tashok slams the latch a bit harder than she’d meant to, but can’t quite find it in herself to care too much. After everything! After everything she and her friends have been through, and Ancano barely cared enough to know the half of what they’d had to do to stop him. Didn't even have anything to say about all of it!

They risked their lives because of him.

The Arch Mage and Winterhold guards died because of him.

Mirabelle is in a coma, unable to be awakened despite everyone’s best efforts, because of him.

Tashok had hoped that any and all feelings of anger and aggression would have left with the Eye, but realizes bitterly that those emotions are hers and hers alone. Nothing and no one to blame for them but herself. Except perhaps Ancano.

Tashok takes a deep breath. She’s made a habit of not blaming others for her situation, and isn’t too keen on starting now. She runs her hand down her face before making her way to the Arcaneum. She usually either cooks, bakes or creates potions to relax, but her injured shoulder has made this rather more stressful than calming, and so books are her next best source of relaxation.

"Arch-Mage or not, my rules about books still stand." Urag says as she sits down at one of the many tables.

“'Course…” she gives him a weary smile. “Just need a distraction, is all.”

“With everything that’s happened, I have a hard time seeing how things will go back to normal…” Urag leans over to see what she’s reading. “Uncommon Taste? Can’t say I’ve read that.”

“You haven’t?!” Tashok gasps. “It’s wonderful, full of Breton recipes! I’m quite familiar with some of these dishes already, but The Gourmet just has a way of really bringing life to them. I’m trying to pick something to make when I can get rid of this sling.”

“Don’t try and push it.” Urag warns. “Us Orcs are tougher, not unbeatable.”

“Oh I know… Trust me.” she sighs.

She’s just begun reading the entry about game pie when Lucien enters the Arcaneum, looking around agitatedly.

“There you are! I’m terribly sorry but we’ve got some visitors asking for you.” he says. “It’s about Ancano, and they just won’t leave.”

“I’m coming…” Tashok sighs. She’d just started feeling better. “Who is it?”

“More accurate question would be - ‘Who are they? - I’m afraid.” Lucien leads her down the steps. “We tried to get them to leave, but they won’t budge.”

“They?” Tashok frowns in concern.

“Two groups, I’m surprised they’re not tearing each other apart…”

“Which groups?”

“The Stormloacks and the Thalmor, I’m afraid.”

Tashok almost loses her footing.

“What?!” she shouts more loudly than she meant, her voice echoing through the stairwell. “Oops…”

“Let’s see what they want…” Lucien says.

The two factions comprising of about a dozen members each are standing in the courtyard, glowering at each other and clearly exchanging muttered insults. Tolfdir is standing before both, sending an apologetic look to Tashok when she reaches them.

“What is it you want?” Tashok asks much more curtly than she normally would.

A Stormcloak captain steps forth.

“We’ve already told you mages: we demand to speak to whoever’s in charge.” the captain speaks.

“I’m here.” Tashok sighs. “So what do you want?”

“_You’re_ the Arch Mage?” the captain scoffs. “I can see why this disaster’s happened…”

“The previous Arch Mage unfortunately passed away during this… disaster.” a Thalmor speaks up. “One would think even the likes of _you_ would know this. This… woman, is clearly the new Arch Mage. It’s a honour to meet you, miss…?”

“Tashok gra-Wayrest.” Tashok supplies. “Now, will you all tell me what it is you want?”

“Simple: we want our wayward operative.” the Thalmor says. “He broke protocol with his actions, and being one of our members, it’s our responsibility to take care of it.”

“So you can just whisk him away and evade punishment like you lot always do?!” the Stormcloak captain shouts. “No, he should be given to us: he’s responsible for the death of multiple members of a hold under _our_ protection.”

“I don’t think so…” the Thalmor sneers before turning to Tashok, much more civil than just a second prior. “Perhaps you’d be so kind as to have him fetched for us? The faster we go through this, the better.”

Tashok nods numbly.

“I’ll go get him…” she says.

“Let me offer you one of our own to accompany you.” the Thalmor says. “You seem injured, and who knows what our rogue member might do.”

“As if we’d let you out of our sight!” the Stormcloak captain interjects, motioning to a soldier. “Einar, go with them.”

Neither factions say a word when they go retrieve Ancano, who's eyes widen in realization and before when he sees them. He closes his eyes and composes himself, letting out a long sigh. For a split second Tashok feels guilty and considers… No. She can’t afford to make an enemy of both the Thalmor and the Stomcloaks. Pearl is still curled on his lap and rears back at the two strangers, while Tashok crouches down to help Ancano up, hoisting him up slowly with her free hand.

“Please don’t try and fight us…” she says as she releases his arm.

He doesn’t speak, nodding slowly, understanding. There’s no real chance for him anymore. Never really was. Tashok quickly summons Pearl to the courtyard as soon as they close the latch, unwilling to let him down in the Midden on his own.

“Mh, impressive.” the Thalmor soldier hums.

Ancano rolls his eyes at the the soldier's pathetic attempt at flattery.

The Thalmor leader smiles coldly once they come into view, bringing her hands together excitedly.

“Excellent! First Emissary Elenwen will be most pleased.” she says.

“I don’t think so.” the Stormcloak captain cuts in. “Arch Mage, with all due respect this is about justice! He doesn’t deserve to go back with them… and what? Get a slap on the wrist and then reassigned? He’s responsible for multiple deaths, he’s caused thousand of septims of damage to both your College and the town of Winterhold…”

“And he _will_ be punished…” the Thalmor leader says placatingly, if not a bit condescendingly. Must be a job requirement to be part of the Thalmor. “By us. He’s one of ours, it’s only fitting we rectify his mistakes.”

“And how exactly are you going to _rectify_ this? The people of Winterhold are furious, and scared. It’s our job as protectors of Skyrim to get rid of any outsider who’d threaten us. This is exactly why we’ve been trying to keep such outsiders away from our province.”

“Oh please…”

“Arch Mage.” the captain turns back to Tashok.

Ancano starts when he hears the title.

“Give him to us. It’s what’s right." the captain insists. "We’ll deliver due justice and show the people of Skyrim what we do to those who’d threaten us.” he glares at Ancano, eyes murderous. “By the time we’re done he’ll wish he’d never set foot here-”

“No.” Tashok cuts off his angered rant.

“…No?” the captain echoes in disbelief.

“I’m not stupid!” Tashok says sharply. “I’m not giving him to you so you can take everything out on him!”

Ancano, who’d been glaring at the ground until now and decidedly trying and failing to ignore the conversation, twists around to look at her, astonished.

“It's what he deserves!” the captain argues.

“Arch Mage, as you can see, we’re equipped to handle this in a way that’s much more civil.” the Thalmor leader says. “Please, this is our problem, let us take care of it.”

Tashok takes a deep breath, eyeing the Thalmor uncertainly. Something about their demeanour, about the cold glares they send Ancano’s way rubs her the wrong way.

“Give him to us now.” the captain presses.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea…” Tashok finds herself saying.

“Ah. Elenwen thought you might say that.” the Thalmor isn’t deterred. “She’s generously offered nine thousand septims in exchange for Ancano, in order to help you rebuild.”

“You mention that _now_.” Tolfdir points out.

“We were going to give it to you once the exchange was done.” the Thalmor, appearing wounded by the accusation. “It’s become relevant now, no need to hold it off.”

This gives Tashok pause. She glances around, seeing the extensive structural damage the Eye’s power unleashed on the College. She knows Winterhold and the Hall of the Elements are in much worse shape.

“I need some time to think…” she motions to her fellow mages to follow her, bringing Ancano with her.

“Take your time.” the Thalmor leader says with a smile baring entirely too much teeth.

“Typical for you to use bribery…” a Stormcloak spits.

The College members are quickly huddled past the central statue, speaking.

“We could use that money.” Inigo says. “The entire area is in poor shape, after everything.”

“I’m sure the Jarl of Winterhold won’t object to us helping him rebuild…” Tolfdir adds.

“I guess so…” Tashok says, looking at Ancano, who still refuses to meet anyone’s eyes, his expression unreadable. “What do you think? This does concern you, after all…”

Ancano’s eyes snap up and he scowls at her.

“Want me to pick my poison, do you?” he says bitterly.

His eyes fall back down, scowl still in place, and he doesn’t respond any further.

“What are you plans for him, anyways?” Lucien asks.

“You can’t exactly keep him here forever.” Faralda points out.

Tashok sighs, she hadn’t really thought of that. And now with the Jarl and the citizens of Winterhold even more on edge than usual, they’ll need something big to even attempt at mending the broken trust.

“I…” she hesitates. “I guess you’re right.”

She forces her feat to take her back to the awaiting factions and her face not to seem as uncertain as she feels.

“Have you made you decision?” the Thalmor leader asks patiently.

“I have.” Tashok replies. “You make a good point; this does concern you, since you’re the ones who sent Ancano here in the first place.”

“That’s why you can’t trust them!” the Stormcloak captain yells.

“I’m not dealing with this.” Tashok raises her hand. “I made my choice. Ancano will go back with the Thalmor. End of story.”

“I knew you’d be sensible.” the Thalmor leader smiles. “Now, here’s the septims we promised, as a show of good faith.”

Two soldiers drop a chest filled with coins by Tashok’s feet before returning to their previous positions.

“You’re making a mistake!” the Stormcloak captain shouts. “He should be turned over to us so we can show that filthy elf what happens when you threaten the people of Skyrim!”

Tashok frowns at the increasingly agitated Stormcloaks.

“Listen, I wouldn’t give my worst enemy away to you lot.” Tashok cuts in. “If you had your way, _elves, _like myself, wouldn’t even be allowed to step in Skyrim, so forgive me if I’m not inclined to trust you to have the best of intentions. I made my choice, accept it.”

The Stormcloaks look as if they’re going to start attacking any moment, hands going to rest on their swords.

“I think you should leave…” Tashok narrows her eyes, putting in all the anger she can muster in her voice. “I’ve beaten beings much more threatening than you.”

Her intimidation attempt seems to have worked, as the Stormcloaks falter, eyeing each other warily as if debating whether they should continue pushing. Even the Thalmor, who aren’t the subjects of Tashok’s current venom hidden their eyes at the exchange.

“This isn’t over!” one of the Stormcloak shouts as the group begins to take their leave.

“No… Never is with you lot…” Tashok sighs bitterly, before redirecting her attention to the Thalmor. “You have who you came for, so now I’ll have to ask you to leave. I don’t want to see any of your operatives near the College ever again. Hear me?”

“We understand your reservations.” the lead Thalmor says. “I hope time will give way for you to reconsider. As it stands, we shall leave.”

“Thank you.” Tashok exhales in relief at her assurance that they are indeed departing. “I’ll show you Ancano’s room so you can collect his things…”

“That won’t be necessary.” the Thalmor leader says. “I’d say it was a pleasure, but this whole affair has been less than ideal… Goodbye.”

The Thalmor turn on their heels and depart with Ancano, disappearing out of view and away from the College, though Tashok still has a bitter taste in her mouth from the entire encounter.

“I can’t believe you just told both the Thalmor and the Stormcloaks to bugger off.” Lucien says, slightly amused.”

“By Mara…” Tashok gasps. “I really did that, didn’t I?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, with this we close off the College of Winterhold quest line!
> 
> Thoughts?

**Author's Note:**

> It's the College questline!! Woohoo! (?)


End file.
